Priest Xiao

Not far away, hidden at the foot of a mist-covered mountain, stood an ancient temple. Many believed it abandoned, but the truth was different. For years, Xiao had been its quiet guardian, preserving every stone and carving as a tribute to the generations of his family who had protected the sacred place.

The temple was secluded, far from the nearest village, surrounded by dense forests and snow-covered trails. Each day, Xiao climbed the mountain to leave offerings—humble gifts to distant gods he was no longer sure even existed. Yet still, he prayed, bound by duty and faith.

That night, as moonlight bathed the mountainside in silver, Xiao descended the trail with an empty basket in hand. His steps were unhurried, the snow crunching softly beneath his boots. There was no reason to rush—no one ever came to this place. It was his sanctuary.

But tonight, something would be different.

A faint, guttural sound pierced the stillness—a low, agonized growl drifting from the forest's edge. Xiao froze, his heart quickening. The noise was unlike any animal he knew, yet there was something almost… human about it. Despite the chill creeping down his spine, he stepped closer, drawn by a sense of duty.

"Hello?" he called softly, his voice hesitant. The darkness ahead seemed thicker, heavier somehow, as if it were alive. He squinted into the shadows, hoping—yet dreading—to glimpse whatever waited there.