The wood雕 pulled stronger, pointing towards a narrow opening between two massive trees, so overgrown that it was barely visible. It looked like entering the mouth of something dark and unwelcoming.

Hesitating, I reached the opening. The air emanating from within was cold and damp, carrying that same sickly sweet, unpleasant smell I had encountered during the rainstorm.

林魈。

My heart pounded against my ribs. I knew I was entering their territory. The voice of the林靈 had warned me.

But the wood雕 insisted. It was pulling me into this place.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped through the opening.

The moment I entered, the temperature dropped sharply. It was like stepping from a warm, humid greenhouse into a cold cellar. The air was stale and heavy.

The ground beneath my feet squelched softly with moisture, and the black ash was thicker here. The trees were even more contorted, their branches twisted into grotesque shapes. There was no light here, only darkness illuminated by the very faint light filtering in from the opening and the dimmer glow of the wood雕.