Tale of the Creation of the Heavens

Tristan followed Zahira through the tunnels for several hours. They exited differently than they had entered, through a crack in a large rock. The first thing he saw was the green color of the plants around them.

'Finally. I'm free of that cursed place.'

Tristan turned to the hybrid girl and bowed. He made a small effort to think of something nice to say.

"Thank you, Zahira. I wouldn't have been able to get out of there so quickly without your help. You have my gratitude."

"Oh, it's fine. It was nothing. Have a safe trip," she replied in a voice that lacked emotion.

Tristan noticed a sad expression on her fur-covered face.

Without him, she would return to spending her days only in the company of her pet and her house, neither of which could converse with her. Thinking about this, Tristan said:

"Do you have more of that powder that keeps the Fungelites from attacking? This is the fastest route, and I'd like to pass through here when I return to the sect."

"You're coming back?" she asked, sounding excited as she reached into the vines on her back and handed him some spheres.

"Yes," he replied. "And I'll stop by your house to visit you."

"Really? That's great. I will wait anxiously for you to tell me everything you saw outside of here. Don't take too long."

With the promise of his return made, he set off on his journey, once again traveling alone.

***

After saying goodbye to Zahira, Tristan spent the next few hours walking through a much less hostile environment than the one he had endured over the past week. The moisture in the air refreshed his lungs, and the sound of birds and small insects was like relaxing music compared to the silence of Kū Mù Lín.

Under his feet was vibrant green grass. The trees around him were tall and conical in shape. As he walked, he came across a small bamboo grove. Approaching it, he shook the stalks and heard the sound of liquid inside. Cutting one of the stalks, he was pleased to see the transparent color of the fluid rather than a red slime.

Tristan drank a little, confirming it was safe, and collected some bamboo pieces to store in his backpack.

The next few hours of his journey were also peaceful until something caught his attention. He spotted a thick, white mist. His brow furrowed, and his mind grew more alert.

Tristan recalled what he had studied about the Misty Mountains region.

He approached cautiously, feeling no desire to disobey the advice from his map and the books he had read in the library, which warned against getting close to any mist near that area.

The fog appeared completely normal, and through his mystical senses, he found nothing unusual about it. However, he soon realized what he was seeing was not natural.

Tristan crouched and examined the ground beneath the mist. It looked as though it was sinking into the soil. He took a deep breath and blew toward the fog, but it remained unmoved. Keeping a few meters away, he observed the trees and rocks around the fog, noticing once again that nothing seemed capable of blocking it.

'It seems I've found the Mist of the Lost.'

He no longer had any doubts. The Misty Mountains must be close. And if everything he had heard was true, at their summit would be the magical herbs that could miraculously boost his cultivation.

A slight smile curved his lips, and a determined glint lit his eyes. The desire to turn his former home and prison to ashes burned in his heart once more. He felt that desire within him grow as if it alone were enough to bring down those mountains.

Shaking his head, he calmed his mind. Focus was vital to surviving any dangerous task. Those who let their emotions control them tended to have short lives.

Yet every step he took carried the weight of his anxiety.

He walked into an open field, and a massive mountain range appeared before his eyes.

Tristan gripped the strap of his backpack more tightly. Dense white mist rested on one of the peaks of those colossal rock formations. However, he did not let the danger of the unknown shake his resolve. On the contrary, he faced the mysterious fog with even greater determination. At that moment, something strange happened.

He closed his eyes tightly and looked again, but everything had returned to normal.

Tristan ran a hand through his hair in confusion.

'Am I going crazy again?' This wasn't a good time for that.

He tried to recall the shape he had seen at the top of the mountain.

The details of that image were too vivid in his memory to be mere imagination.

Tristan sighed.

'Why the hell was there a hand on top of the mountain?'

***

On a dark night in a forest of old, gnarled trees, four beasts with snouts close to the dry ground sniffed around. They resembled Komodo dragons but were the size of tigers.

There were many footprints, holes, and bloodstains on the ground—clear evidence that a battle had taken place there.

Two tall, humanoid figures stood near the beasts, watching as if searching for something.

Traces of a fight—that was all that remained for them. They knew that if anyone had died there, their bodies would have long been devoured by the monsters of that region.

Their bodies were covered in parts from various creatures—scales, fangs, claws, and hides. Some hides appeared to be from animals, while others resembled human skin. A short distance from them stood someone barely the height of their legs, dressed in leather clothing that covered them from head to toe, keeping them warm in the cold night.

One of the beasts kept its snout in one spot longer before raising its head. The tallest figure approached and crouched, using a scarred and wrinkled hand to dig into the soil. Suddenly, it paused, looking more closely.

The figure picked something up from the ground and brought it closer for inspection.

It was strands of hair—unnaturally dark, blacker than coal.

Seeing this, sparks of power shone in its eyes, filled with predatory intent.