The night grew colder as Li Feng pushed forward, the moonlight barely piercing the thick mist that clung to the mountains. His thoughts lingered on the woman, Yue, and the cryptic warning she had given him. The path ahead was not just treacherous; it was steeped in ancient, mysterious powers that even she, a guardian, respected.
Li Feng’s breath came out in visible puffs as he continued his climb. The air thinned, making every breath feel like a battle. His instincts sharpened, knowing full well that the further he ventured into the heart of the Moonlit Peaks, the greater the danger that awaited him.

As he rounded a corner, the landscape changed abruptly. The jagged rocks gave way to a vast, flat plateau, with strange, stone monuments scattered across it. Each stone was worn by time, its carvings faded and weathered, but they still exuded an eerie presence. Li Feng slowed his pace, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of movement. The silence was suffocating.

He approached one of the stones, noticing that its surface was etched with ancient symbols—symbols that seemed to shift and change as he tried to focus on them. A chill ran down his spine. The energy here was different. This wasn’t just a resting place; it was a site of power.

As his fingers brushed the surface of the stone, a sudden gust of wind whipped through the plateau, carrying with it faint whispers. He jerked his hand back, his heart pounding. The whispers grew louder, though he couldn’t make out any words. They seemed to come from everywhere at once, circling him, pulling at his mind.

Suddenly, a figure materialized out of the mist, emerging from between the stone monuments. It was a man, dressed in worn, battle-scarred armor, his face hidden beneath a metal helm. His presence radiated authority, though his eyes—empty, hollow—were filled with a deep sorrow.

Li Feng instinctively reached for his sword, but the man made no move toward him. Instead, the figure pointed toward the center of the plateau, where the stones formed a ring around an altar-like structure.

“There,” the man said, his voice echoing as though from a great distance. “The truth you seek lies within. But beware… the past is not so easily forgotten.”

Li Feng hesitated. His sword hummed at his side, a reminder of the dangers that lurked in these peaks. And yet, something about the figure’s words compelled him to move forward. Slowly, he approached the center of the plateau, where the stones seemed to pulse with a faint, ethereal light.

The whispers grew louder as he neared the altar. His heart raced, but he steeled himself, determined to uncover the truth. He placed a hand on the cold stone surface, and in that instant, the world around him shifted.

He was no longer on the plateau. He stood in the middle of a great battlefield, surrounded by warriors locked in brutal combat. The clashing of steel and the cries of the fallen filled the air. The sky above was dark, swirling with clouds as lightning cracked across the horizon.

Before him stood two figures, locked in a fierce duel. One, dressed in the armor of an ancient warrior, wielded a blade that shimmered with the same light as the blossoms he sought. The other, a woman—her face obscured—fought with a staff, her movements fluid and powerful. The energy between them was palpable, crackling through the air like a living force.

Li Feng watched, frozen, as the battle raged on. The woman’s staff struck with the precision of a seasoned fighter, but the warrior with the glowing blade met each blow with equal force. It was as if they had been locked in this fight for an eternity.

And then, with a cry of pain, the woman faltered. The warrior’s blade found its mark, cutting through the air with a final, devastating blow. The woman fell, her body collapsing to the ground as the light around her dimmed.

Li Feng’s heart seized. He wanted to shout, to intervene, but his body wouldn’t move. He was merely an observer in this ancient memory.

The warrior stood over the fallen woman, his face obscured by shadow. For a moment, he hesitated, then slowly knelt beside her, his hand trembling as he reached for the blossoms that had bloomed from the ground beneath her. The petals glowed, just as they had in the legends, their power pulsing through the air.

Li Feng’s vision blurred as the scene began to fade. The battlefield, the warriors, the blossoms—all dissolved into mist. When his surroundings finally settled, he found himself back on the plateau, his hand still resting on the stone altar.

His chest heaved as he struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Was it a vision of the past? A warning?

Before he could gather his thoughts, the armored man reappeared beside him. “The mountain has shown you its truth,” he said, his voice low. “The blossoms have power, but they are not a gift. They are a curse.”

Li Feng looked up at the figure, his mind racing. “What did I see? Who were those people?”

The man’s hollow eyes stared back at him, full of sorrow. “You saw the beginning of it all. The moment the blossoms were born. And the moment they became the burden of the Moonlit Peaks.”

Li Feng’s heart pounded. If the blossoms were as dangerous as the vision suggested, then Mei’s pursuit of them could end in tragedy. He had to reach her before it was too late.

Without another word, the man faded back into the mist, leaving Li Feng alone once more. But now, the weight of the mountain’s curse hung heavy on his shoulders.

He had come seeking answers, but all he found were more questions—and a growing sense of urgency. Time was running out. Mei was somewhere in these mountains, and if he didn’t find her soon, she might be lost to the curse of the Moonlit Peaks forever.