Li Xian's heart raced as they reached the spot.
Moonlight illuminated the clearing…
But…
Nothing.
No wooden house.
No trace of a window.
No symbol.
Only the forest, silent and still.
Li Xian froze, face darkening.
It… it was here… I remember… I saw it with my own eyes…
He turned toward Zhao Han, panic flickering in his eyes.
"It… it was right here when I was little," he said, voice tense.
"Why… why isn't it here now? How… how can it just disappear… like mist?"
Zhao Han's sharp eyes studied him carefully.
A pause.
Then his calm, measured voice cut the silence.
"Are you sure you remember correctly?" he asked.
"Maybe… you were just a child. Memories… they can be wrong."
Li Xian's fists clenched.
Wrong?
No… I remember everything… I remember the wooden house, the masked people, the symbol…
The panic in his chest tightened like a vice.
He looked around the clearing again.
Shadows stretched between the trees, but no wooden structure, no sign of what he had seen.
Zhao Han remained silent, walking slowly beside him, his expression unreadable.
Li Xian's playful side—gone.
Seriousness and dread consumed him.
Was it real?
Or just a childhood illusion…?
"…You really think it could be wrong?" Li Xian asked quietly, almost whispering.
Zhao Han's eyes met his.
"…Maybe. Or maybe it's hiding," he said softly.
"Either way… we'll figure it out."
Li Xian's mind spun, heart pounding.
Hiding? How could a wooden house vanish… disappear completely…?
The night air felt heavier.
The forest darker.
And somewhere deep inside, Li Xian knew—
This is only the beginning.