At first, the forest seemed ordinary—

  pines, oaks, and maples layering across rolling slopes.

  Sunlight broke through gaps, painting shifting lace across the soil.

  Wildflowers scattered bright over the humus floor.

  But deeper in, the air changed.

  The silver mist thinned, replaced by something weightless as water—

  Spirit Energy.

  It flowed without resistance, as if the air itself bore intent.

  At the boundary where the human world blurred into the Spirit Realm,

  vines glowed faint gold, coiling up massive trunks.

  Flowers the size of bowls opened like crystal, petals trembling like cicada wings.

  Leaves turned upward, veins shining emerald as they drank light.

  Spirit beasts stirred between the trees.

  Deer-like forms with coats fading from dark crown to pale belly.

  Antlers gleamed like carved jade.

  They glanced once at the intruders, then bounded off—silent as mist.

  Further in, the forest shifted again.

  Trees towered into cloud, trunks so wide five men could not circle them.

  Silver runes pulsed faintly across bark, fading in and out with each breath of Spirit Energy.

  Above, an ape-like beast streaked through the canopy, leaving behind a bell-like call that lingered in the air.

  Even the ground breathed:

  ? Blue fungi glowing like scattered lanterns.

  ? Ferns unfurling translucent fronds, veins streaming with iridescent liquid.

  ? Crystal shrubs heavy with pearl-like fruit, glowing softly in the gloom.

  The air grew sweet, heavy with spirit.

  Silver gauze drifted thick, almost visible.

  Every breath sharpened thought, tugged at instincts long buried.

  Ryan brushed mist from his sleeve, whispering, “This place… unreal.”

  “Don’t touch.” YiChen’s voice cut sharp.

  “Most plants here are poison—or worse.”

  Steps slowed. Faces tightened.

  Still, the faint violet light-beast lingered behind them,

  chirping softly now and then, as though guiding their path.

  Hours passed. None felt fatigue.

  Instead, each sensed something stirring—

  resonance awakening inside, marrow responding to the air itself.

  YiChen stopped. The current here was denser.

  Moonshadow Wheat could not be far.

  He checked his watch—nearly 5 p.m.

  “We make camp. Wards before nightfall.”

  David muttered, “That thing’s still following.”

  All turned.

  The violet beast crouched on a branch, tail swaying, amethyst eyes fixed on them.

  Logan grinned. “Fast little devil. One second in the trees, next in the brush.”

  Jack exhaled. “What is it really?”

  Ryan half-joked, “Maybe waiting to ambush us.”

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  YiChen studied it, thoughtful.

  “Judging by its patience—sensory or illusion type.

  For it to shadow us this long… it’s not weak.”

  His eyes darkened.

  “It’s not lost. It’s choosing.”

  Han Yue’s voice blended with the wind.

  “Choosing… among us.”

  The weight of those words pressed every chest.

  A Contract Beast.

  If a light beast chose a human, it meant soul-recognition.

  Not just power—rebirth. Survival.

  The creature leapt down, padding closer.

  Violet light shimmered pearl-like across its fur.

  Each step was so light it seemed to walk on air.

  Han Yue’s chest jolted.

  Resonance tugged taut—an unseen thread looping from its glow into his own soul.

  He steadied his breath, fingers twitching at his rifle.

  “…It’s looking at me?”

  The beast halted ten meters away.

  Nose twitching, it tested the air.

  Its star-like eyes swept the squad—

  and lingered on Han Yue.

  For a heartbeat, the thread pulled taut.

  Then—

  violet light folded in on itself.

  With a bound, it vanished into the thickets.

  “Hey?!” David blurted.

  “Why bolt now?”

  Han Yue’s lips parted. He swallowed the words, brows drawn tight.

  Logan clapped his shoulder, laughing low.

  “Had its eye on you, kid. Guess it’s shy.”

  YiChen’s gaze stayed on the brush, deep and unreadable.

  “High-spirit beasts are cautious. Especially when they choose.

  It’s still watching.”

  Han Yue lowered his gaze to his palm, brushing fingers against the rifle.

  The resonance lingered—

  faint as silk against the soul.

  Present. Then gone.

  “…It’ll come back.” His voice was quiet, steady.

  No one disagreed.

  A breeze rippled the canopy.

  Silver mist coiled like a dream.

  The sky dimmed, shadows stretching long.

  The camp was not yet raised.

  The violet light-beast lingered in the trees.

  And the true heart of the Spirit Realm lay far ahead.

  ?

  They chose a hollow between three ancient trunks, each thick as walls.

  YiChen knelt, setting crystalline stones into the soil. Infused with Spirit Force, they pulsed faint blue; a thin shimmer spread outward, forming a barrier fine as glass.

  “Don’t cross it.” He slid the axe to his belt.

  “I’ll be back.”

  Logan and David stacked rocks for a fire pit. Ryan and Jack wrestled with tent frames, metal poles grating against bark.

  Logan tossed a tube tent onto its frame, grinning.

  “Heavier than my dog—but at least I don’t have to bunk with you clowns.”

  Ryan thumped the pack on his shoulders.

  “Worth it. I’d rather haul three kilos than wake up with something breathing on me.”

  At the barrier’s edge, Han Yue lingered.

  His eyes combed the brush again and again—

  searching for amethyst eyes in the dark.

  ?

  Half an hour later, YiChen returned.

  When he stepped through the barrier carrying a beast, the camp froze.

  It wasn’t large—less than a meter. A badger’s bulk, a fox’s mask. Even in death, faint light flickered along its pelt.

  A Fogclaw Beast. Common here. Mist clung to its claws—fast, lethal in night hunts.

  YiChen had killed it in under thirty seconds. Only a smear of blood stained his hand.

  “Holy—brother!” Logan lurched up, eyes wide.

  “You had that in your pocket?!”

  YiChen didn’t answer. His gaze caught the tent’s outline—

  and memory flared.

  A boy’s laugh, bright, innocent:

  “Bro… it just feels like those camping trips back at school.…”

  The sound cut to silence.

  YiChen lowered the beast. The dagger slid clean through tendon and flesh, his motions practiced, precise—ritual more than labor.

  The squad gathered close as he skewered meat, salted it, set it over the flames.

  Fat hissed into fire. Smoke curled fragrant, rich.

  Firelight carved harsh planes across YiChen’s face. Shadows and flame flickered in his eyes. His grip on the skewer tightened—

  as though bracing against something unseen.

  Logan noticed. He smacked YiChen’s back, booming,

  “Oi! Snap out of it—your meat’s burning!”

  YiChen blinked, turned the skewer, handed it over.

  “Eat.”

  The flesh was tender, its juices faintly sweet with spirit. Logan tore in, words muffled around a full mouth.

  “Way better than rations…”

  ?

  Night deepened.

  Beyond the barrier, the cries of beasts echoed—long, distant, swallowed again by silence. None dared approach.

  Han Yue sat with rifle across his knees, cleaning in silence. His gaze never left the dark.

  He didn’t know if the violet shadow would return.

  But his hands stayed steady.

  He was ready.

  *Line art – drawn by the author.*