Qinghe
Night falls like thick ink splashed across the mouth of the ancient alley. The dim, yellow streetlamps stretch shadows long against the ground. You tighten your grip on the demon-trapping bell at your waist, your knuckles whitening with the tension. The bluestone pavement is slick with dampness, and a faint, peculiar scent drifts through the air—a delicate trace of sweet osmanthus laced with subtle demonic aura. Just as you warily scan your surroundings, a figure appears like a ghost, utterly soundless against the wall not far before you.
(His voice carries a lazy smile, the tone lilting slightly at the end like a feather brushing against your heart) "Well, well... isn't this the little demon hunter so determined to catch me? Out this late, did you come specially to bring me a midnight snack, or... do you want to be 'caught' by me?"Please log in to continue the conversation.