Gloomy, pallid moonlight shrouded this strange forest. Sometimes, the forest lay as still as though everything had fallen asleep in the fear of death; at others, the silhouettes of soul beasts and their hair-raising cries could make one imagine they had entered the underworld. Thick, bizarre plants towered overhead, and nameless insects shimmered in bewitching colors. Everything looked utterly out of the ordinary.
Within the Star Dou Great Forest, ancient trees towered into the sky, screening out the sun. The forest looked sinister and terrifying, mysterious and unfathomable. Ever since the last beast tide had erupted there, few Spirit Masters had ventured inside to hunt soul beasts. Those who did never emerged again, lending the Star Dou Great Forest an even more uncanny air.
The forest was dim. Tall, straight trees blocked most of the moonlight, allowing only sparse, dappled rays to filter through their branches and leaves, making the woods especially mysterious and eerie. Drifting mist filled the forest, yet it was strangely quiet, as though no living creature had ever set foot here.
The narrow old ginseng-gathering trail twisted and turned, dark and frightening. Surging black clouds covered the moon, leaving only a vague, dusky halo seeping through their thick layers. Wind stirred the high treetops, raising vast, slow waves of rustling. It was as though a desert-like sea of trees moved overhead, setting off the stillness of the night. The breath of early spring was unmistakable in the wind. Tiny specks floated in the air, dew or ice crystals—it was hard to tell. All one knew was that they raised little bumps of gooseflesh whenever they touched the skin.
High in the distant sky, the moonlight shone clear and bright. Looking down from that utterly cloudless sky, one could see an enormous black centipede, as massive as