My scalp prickled so hard it felt like needles. I clutched the edge of the blanket against my chest and stared as that massive silhouette crept toward the den. The tigress lowered her head, nudging the cubs with her nose, calling to them softly.

  But the cubs did not move.

  She called again—more urgent this time—her tail striking the earth, sending dust swirling. I hid in the shadows, heart jammed in my throat.

  In the silence that followed, the tigress suddenly paused. Her nose pressed to the cubs’ necks as she sniffed carefully.

  The moment she caught the scent, her entire body froze. Her low, labored breathing deepened, heavy as muffled thunder.

  Then—

  With an explosive roar that shook the whole mountainside, she raised a giant paw and brought it smashing down!

  Crack.

  A cub’s head rolled clean off.

  I nearly screamed on the spot. The “ah—” already barreled out of my throat before I slapped both hands over my mouth, choking myself half to death.

  Then I saw it—around the cub’s neck, a crude black thread. Someone had stitched the head back onto the body. The seams were crooked; the flesh had dried; everything reeked of death.

  Every hair on my body stood straight up.

  Who did this?!

  What kind of twisted bastard would sew a dead cub back together and put it back in the den?

  To cover something up?

  To buy time?

  Or just for the sick thrill of it?

  A chill shot up my spine so fast my knees went weak.

  The tigress, however, didn’t spare the corpse another glance. She lowered herself, nudging the cubs again—careful, trembling, terrified of hurting them. Yet no matter how she pushed, the cubs remained still as stones, cold as the grave.

  For a moment, the forest itself seemed to stop breathing.

  In the flickering firelight, I watched her eyes slowly fill with a glassy sheen. Then she tilted her head toward the sky and unleashed a long, heart-rending wail—so raw and piercing it felt like it could crack the entire mountain range open. My chest tightened; my heart felt as if needles were stabbing it from within.

  I dared not stay a second longer. While she drowned in grief, I hunched low, held my breath, and crept back the way I came. My foot slipped twice—I nearly face-planted both times. Thank heaven no one saw.

  When I finally stumbled back to the campfire, Lian and Hua were mid-conversation. I collapsed onto the ground, heart still hammering, and dumped everything I’d seen in one frantic rush.

  Hua’s brows drew together so hard the crease could’ve sliced stone. He closed his fan and tapped his palm with it.

  “Little Gong, did you see clearly? The cub’s head was stitched on?”

  I nodded so fast my throat rasped from dryness.

  Lian did not speak at once. He only narrowed his eyes, voice low and cool.

  “There is someone in these woods.”

  Hua folded his arms and nodded. “Exactly. And whoever it is—they’re not just cruel. They’re planning something.”

  I stared blankly, my heart about to burst out of my ribs.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  Seriously?

  I nearly died to bring you a horror story, and the main takeaway is—

  There’s someone in the forest?!

  My system chimed in my ear, deadpan as always:

  “At least you have some self-awareness. Not being dragged off by the tigress counts as a decent performance for you.”

  “Shut up!” I barked back internally. Too bad nobody else could hear it.

  I hadn’t even recovered from the shock when a thunderous roar tore through the mountains again. Leaves shivered off branches. The sound was horribly familiar.

  The tigress. The same one I had just spied on.

  “Son of a—”

  I jerked upright, legs buckling beneath me, and instinctively shrank behind Lian. Whatever bravery I possessed evaporated instantly.

  Lian’s expression chilled. His sleeve flicked. He and Hua moved in unison, tension snapping through the air like drawn bowstrings.

  A sharp sound sliced through the silence—then I found myself swept up between the two of them and flung, feather-light, onto a branch three fathoms high. My backside nearly got wedged in the fork.

  Someone below was shouting, “Help—help—help—”

  “Help—help WHAT?!” I started to yell back—

  when a blur of movement flashed beneath me.

  A man burst from the woods in a wild, stumbling sprint. Hair tangled, clothes in tatters, eyes rolling with terror.

  “Help me—! Help—!”

  He didn’t finish.

  A thunderous crash split the air as the tigress lunged. She slammed him to the ground with the weight of a collapsing boulder.

  Then—crack.

  The sound was unmistakable: a skull snapping.

  My eyeballs nearly rocketed out of my head as the tigress wrenched his head clean off with one bite. Blood fountained upward, splattering across the clearing. The firelight turned the spray a demonic crimson.

  A strangled gargle escaped my throat. My legs melted; I almost toppled straight out of the tree. If Lian hadn’t kept a firm grip on the back of my collar, I’d have been kissing dirt.

  But the bigger problem was—

  At that moment, I was basically plastered against Lian’s chest, clutching his shoulders like a drowning man, my nose damn near brushing his ear.

  Lian’s brows drew together in displeasure. He clearly found me annoying—but he didn’t shove me off. He only said coldly:

  “Quiet.”

  I: “…”

  I would LOVE to be quiet!

  But how on earth am I supposed to stay quiet in a situation like this?!

  Yet strangely, after tearing off that man’s head, the tigress didn’t attack the body like a starving beast. She merely cast the corpse a cold glance, then turned and vanished into the trees with a sharp swish.

  I nearly burst into tears.

  “W–Was that… was that tiger hunting people on purpose?!”

  Hua, perched on the branch and fanning himself, looked far grimmer than usual.

  “Doesn’t look like hunger,” he murmured. “More like… revenge.”

  Once the forest fell silent again, the three of us climbed down. My legs buckled the instant they hit the ground—I slipped on the leaf litter and almost slid face-first into the headless body. I yelped and scrambled behind Hua as fast as I could.

  Lian crouched beside the corpse, pushing aside the dead man’s robes with a fingertip. Hua leaned over, nudged the body with the edge of his fan, and a paper-wrapped bundle tumbled from the man’s arms. The contents spilled across the dirt with a clatter.

  “…Grave robbers,” Lian said coldly.

  I blinked at the mess—crudely forged picks, short shovels, and several black candles rolled out. The air reeked of blood and old wax, thick enough to make me gag.

  Hua chuckled low, tapping his fan against his shoulder.

  “Well now, little Gong, turns out this mountain’s not just home to tigers. We’ve got tomb raiders on the menu too.”

  Me: “??!!”

  My system drifted into my mind with a sigh.

  “See? Trouble delivers itself.”

  I hunched my shoulders and muttered at it, “Stop scaring me! As long as I don’t walk into a tomb-raiding plotline, those grave robbers can’t drag me into anything!”

  “Hmph,” the system scoffed. “Plotlines don’t care whether you choose them. A seed falls and grows where it will. Think you can outrun something like that?”

  I rolled my eyes hard enough to sprain something and tugged at Lian and Hua.

  “Let’s go, let’s go, this place reeks of blood. What if that tiger comes back—”

  “Wait.”

  Hua suddenly blocked my path with a sweep of his arm. His fan snapped open, then pointed toward the headless corpse.

  “Look at his wrist.”

  I hesitated, swallowed bile, and crouched to peer closer. There—on the man’s right wrist—a thin red cord was tied tight. Stained with blood it had darkened, yet still held a strange, gleaming tint.

  “This thing…” My heart gave a violent thump.

  A flicker of recognition shot through me—somewhere back in Luoyan City… a street corner… a stall…

  But the memory slipped away the moment I reached for it, leaving only the weight of unease pressing on my chest.

  “Familiar?” Hua asked lazily, casting me a sidelong glance that saw far too much.

  “I…” My mouth opened and closed before I managed, “N–No. Doesn’t ring a bell.”

  Lian stood beside the corpse, face unreadable. He seemed not to hear our exchange at all. He gave the red cord a brief, cool glance and then turned away, uninterested.

  But my own throat tightened; dread drummed in my heart.

  Where had I seen that red cord…?

  Just then, my system materialized again, voice quiet and cutting:

  “You still think you can avoid moving into a tomb-raiding plotline?”

  A full-body shiver ran through me.

  “Shut up!”