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Azure Smoke Moon Shadow
墨書 Inktalez
In the depths of the mountains, the fog arrives without warning, swallowing everything like a living creature. That autumn, Lin Yuan ventured into the woods alone in pursuit of a deer, but he never emerged from the mist. Some say he encountered something he should not have—a Spirit Fox that had taken on human form. The elders in the village spoke of how, during a full moon, azure smoke often rises from the mountains, marking the traces of the Fox Spirit's wandering soul. No one dared to approach; only Lin Yuan, armed with his bow and a heart full of courage, ventured into that forbidden territory. Later, beneath the Old Huai Tree at the village entrance, whispers of his name could be heard, claiming he was not dead but had been taken by the Fox Spirit to another world. Yet no one knew that what lay hidden in that fog was not the tenderness of legends but a bone-chilling cold and distant echoes of low growls. Do you dare to listen? The footsteps in the mist are growing ever closer.
Chapter One
The moment Lin Yuan's bowstring snapped, the sky had darkened to an inky blackness. He cursed under his breath and crouched down to feel for the broken end of the string, his palms slick with sweat and dirt. The deer had vanished without a trace, its footprints swallowed by the damp grass. He looked up; the forest was eerily quiet, only the wind rustling through the treetops sounded like someone gasping for breath in the distance. He knew this place well; it was only ten miles from the village, but today the fog had come in an unsettling way, obscuring the path into a swirling white mass.
He stood up and squinted at his surroundings. The fog was so thick he couldn’t see his own hands in front of him; shadows danced among the trees like swollen ghostly figures. He tried to call out, but his throat felt dry and scratchy; his voice echoed back at him, muffled and dull within the fog. Frowning, he felt the weight of his quiver pressing down on his back while his heart felt light as a feather. A hunter relies on sight and sound, but this fog rendered both useless. Gritting his teeth, he moved forward, gripping his bow tighter as if it were his last lifeline.
After walking just a few steps, a low growl echoed from somewhere ahead—like a fox or perhaps some strange sound escaping from a burrow. Lin Yuan paused and twitched his ears; sweat trickled down his temples. He told himself it was just another occurrence in these mountains, but then that sound came again, closer this time, circling around him through the mist.
Steeling himself, Lin Yuan turned away from the sound and continued walking. The wet moss beneath his feet was slippery; he nearly lost his balance several times. The fog seeped into his nostrils with a cold, fishy scent reminiscent of freshly turned earth. After what felt like half an incense stick’s worth of time, he finally spotted something ahead—a dilapidated wooden cabin crouched in the mist like it had been swallowed by the mountain itself. He let out a sigh of relief and quickened his pace; as he pushed open the door, his hands trembled uncontrollably.
Inside was damp enough to wring water from it; rotten grass covered the floor while a few split logs were piled in one corner. Lin Yuan fished out a fire starter and blew on it until it caught flame. The flickering light illuminated a hazy glow around him. He leaned his bow against the wall and squatted down to warm himself by the fire; finally feeling some warmth return to his fingers. But then that low growl sounded again—right outside the door—seeping through the cracks in the wall. He shot up abruptly, grabbing his bow and staring intently at the shadowy figure at the entrance.
“Who’s there?” he called out sharply; his voice reverberated against the wooden walls with a buzzing echo. No one answered, but that shadow shifted slowly into a more defined shape.
It was a woman. The firelight flickered across her face, revealing long eyes with a hint of mischief at their corners. She wore a gray cloth outfit that clung to her body as if she had just emerged from the fog itself. Lin Yuan blinked in surprise as his arrow tip drooped slightly.
“Are you lost?” she asked softly, her voice as gentle as mountain breezes brushing against grass tips. Lin Yuan remained silent, studying her closely as she stepped closer; the firelight danced on her face, deepening her eyes as if they held something unspeakable within.
“I’m A Qing,” she said as she crouched down just two steps away from him and reached out to warm herself by the fire. It was then that Lin Yuan noticed her fingertips were pale and slightly bluish as if they had been soaked in cold water for too long. Frowning slightly, he managed to squeeze out a question: “Do you live here?”
A Qing smiled faintly, not answering, as she lowered her head to poke at the fire. The wood crackled, and sparks flew up to her hand, yet she seemed oblivious to it. Lin Yuan's heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively tightened his grip on the bow.
"The mountains aren't safe," she suddenly looked up, a glimmer flashing in her eyes. "You shouldn't have come alone."
Lin Yuan wanted to ask something, but that low hum sounded again, so close it felt like it was right outside the door. He jumped up abruptly and pushed the door open, peering into the fog. It was empty, not even a shadow in sight. Turning back, he saw A Qing still crouched there, staring at the fire with a slight smile on her lips, as if she already knew there was nothing outside.
He leaned against the door frame for a moment, his heart pounding like a drum. He had seen strange things before; hunters often encountered bizarre tales. But this woman felt too uncanny. Meeting someone in the fog should have stirred some fear, yet her eyes were calm as still water, devoid of even a hint of fear. He looked down at himself; his hand still clutched the bow tightly, his knuckles turning white. He told himself it was just a coincidence in the mountains, but that low hum and her cold fingers kept swirling in his mind.
A Qing didn’t look at him; she continued tending to the fire, humming something softly that was too quiet to decipher. It sounded like a lullaby for children or perhaps an eerie tune sung during mountain rituals. Lin Yuan's throat felt dry; he wanted to ask her about that sound but swallowed his words instead. He feared that asking might make the atmosphere even stranger.
He stole a glance at her; her profile in the firelight was soft like a painting, but that smile seemed off, as if hiding something he couldn't grasp. Suddenly, he recalled the words of an elder from his village who warned that some things in the mountains could deceive the eye. He shook his head, feeling dazed from the cold. Yet that chill persisted, creeping up his spine as if unseen eyes were watching him from within the fog.
The fire dwindled down to embers, and Lin Yuan's eyelids grew heavy with sleep. Leaning against the wall, he dozed off without realizing how long it had been. A faint sound outside jolted him awake; it was like someone stepping on grass. He opened his eyes wide and reached for his bow, but the room was pitch black—the fire had long extinguished. A Qing was gone, and only wisps of white smoke lingered from the pile of wood. He got up and pushed open the door; the fog was thick as a wall. He called out once, but no one answered—only that low hum echoed again, circling around the house.
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