Night Clouds Brewing Rain

Night lay deep, blurring the outline of Misty Spirit Peak. A crescent moon hung high in the sky, spilling a faint wash of silver over the steep ridges like a veil of frost. Even the grass and trees seemed dusted with flecks of silver. All was still save for the rustle of wind through the leaves.

In the rear hall of Misty Spirit Peak, an invisible barrier shut out every noise and ripple of spiritual energy from outside. Within it, a soft, cloud-patterned cushion covered a bamboo couch. Shen Yuxi lay on his side, his long black hair spread across the pillow, a few strands falling over his cheek. His breathing was slow and even.

Months of secluded cultivation had exhausted him in body and mind, so tonight he had decided to rest properly.

An unlit bronze lamp stood on the table beside the couch, leaving the room in darkness. Several sheets covered in talismanic script lay scattered near the table's edge. A breeze stirred them, making the paper tremble with a faint rustle.

Shen Yuxi drifted between sleep and waking, his consciousness floating as though in a warm spirit spring. Suddenly, a bone-piercing chill climbed from the soles of his feet along his meridians and stabbed into his spine.

Every hair on his body stood on end. As if struck by thunder, he snapped his eyes open. Bewilderment filled them for an instant before his gaze tightened and his pupils widened in shock.

By the wan moonlight seeping through the window, he clearly saw a tall, dark figure standing three feet from his bed. Moonlight stretched its shadow across the cold floor. Its outline was indistinct, yet something about it was unspeakably eerie.

Shen Yuxi's heart seized so hard it nearly leapt from his chest. He almost sprang out