The night sky above the Huashan basin had turned the color of drowned embers, dark clouds smoldering faintly, lightning writhing like captive serpents. Beneath that uneasy firmament, Li Wei advanced along the half-forgotten road leading to the village's edge.
The path was broken by weeds and littered with prayer tags, their ink washed pale by years of rain. Somewhere beyond the fields, the lake glimmered—a single obsidian mirror under the moon's waning eye.
He moved with quiet steps, the faint aureole of qi about him rippling with controlled restraint. Each motion of his staff was deliberate, calm.
The whisper of reeds at the lake's edge seemed almost sentient. He could feel the pulse beneath the foul soil. 'The serpent's heart beats here', he thought grimly. 'The seal has bled through to the surface.'
