“The greatest danger is not the beast that growls…
but the eyes that never reveal themselves.”
– Saying of the Poison Tribe
The Black Marsh had returned to its quiet rhythm.
Morning mists drifted between ancient trees.
Children trained.
Hunters disappeared into the forest before sunrise.
The elders spoke little.
Yet…
Something had changed.
No one could explain it.
The forest no longer felt alone.
…
Grandmother Wu called the children together.
Today’s lesson was unlike any before.
She handed each of them a small pouch of fine gray powder.
“If someone follows you…”
“Make them reveal themselves.”
The children exchanged puzzled looks.
“Go.”
Without another word…
They vanished into the forest.
…
Some climbed trees.
Others crossed shallow streams.
Several deliberately walked in circles.
Only Zhao Long chose a different path.
He entered the thickest part of the marsh.
Then…
He stopped walking.
Minutes passed.
Nothing moved.
Nothing spoke. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
He smiled faintly.
“So…”
“You noticed.”
Slowly…
He tossed the gray powder into the air.
The wind carried it through the undergrowth.
For an instant…
A faint outline appeared.
A footprint.
Fresh.
Someone had stepped there only moments before.
But whoever it was…
Had already gone.
…
By sunset…
The children returned.
Most had found nothing.
One proudly declared,
“No one followed me!”
Grandmother Wu simply asked,
“How do you know?”
The boy opened his mouth…
Then quietly lowered his head.
…
Finally…
She turned to Zhao Long.
“You found something.”
He nodded.
“One set of footprints.”
“They vanished.”
The old woman’s expression did not change.
But the elders around her exchanged silent glances.
…
That night…
“The outsiders grow bolder.”
“They’ve reached the outer marsh.”
“Should we move the village?”
An elder shook his head.
“We have survived here for generations.”
Grandmother Wu stared into the flames.
“The marsh has always protected us.”
She paused.
“But even the deepest mist cannot hide forever.”
Silence settled over the gathering.
No decision was made.
…
In his small wooden home…
Zhao Long lay awake.
The sound of frogs echoed across the swamp.
Usually…
The familiar chorus helped him sleep.
Tonight…
One sound was missing.
A single frog had fallen silent.
He slowly opened his eyes.
Outside…
Something disturbed the reeds.
He reached for the simple wooden spear resting beside his bed.
The movement stopped.
Only the wind remained.
After several moments…
He set the spear down.
Sleep did not return easily.
Beyond the walls of the village…
The Black Marsh watched…
And waited.