In a certain forest in the Northeast of China, everything was silent, with thick, white snow covering the land.
The cold wind of the evening swept up snowflakes, howling through the forest like an ancient, low murmur.
The hunter, wrapped tightly in a thick fur coat, carrying several plump mountain chickens, walked home with familiar steps.
Thinking of the dinner his wife had prepared and how his children would eagerly surround the mountain chickens with curiosity and excitement, the hunter, having just celebrated the New Year, was in a great mood. His steps were light, and he even hummed a little tune.
But something felt strange about the weather today. The world was eerily silent, with only the occasional gust of wind whipping up the cold, snowy dust.
Looking up at the sky, now obscured by wind and snow, the daylight was fading. The faint sunset still managed to reflect off the white snow, like a cold face slowly being swallowed by the dark.
The hunter, wrapped in his thick fur coat, trudged through the snow, his breath turning into white mist that quickly dissipated in the cold wind. But when he raised his head again to look ahead, a sense of confusion suddenly arose in his heart.
"Huh? This path doesn't seem right."
He quickly stopped and observed his surroundings. For the hunter, the road home was already second nature—he knew every crooked tree and every steep slope, each detail etched into his memory.
But today, something felt unfamiliar. This road, it had changed.
Turning back, the thick snow only bore his shallow and deep footprints. The hunter frowned, a trace of confusion flickering in his eyes.
The trees around him seemed denser than usual, and an unsettling silence hung in the air. The forest, now darkening, felt somehow different.
The hunter exhaled, thinking perhaps he was just too tired, or maybe the unusual wind and snow had clouded his vision. While rare, such things weren't impossible.
He steadied himself and turned to retrace his steps, but just then, a strong scent of meat wafted into his nose on the wind.
It was the smell of roasted meat.
His hunger was instantly triggered, and he swallowed reflexively, but couldn't help but feel puzzled: "Why would anyone be roasting meat in the forest at this hour?"
Though wary, curiosity dominated.
Maybe another hunter, like him, had caught a good prey today and was roasting it by a campfire.
So, the hunter followed the direction of the scent.
The snow beneath his feet was still thick, crunching with each step, as if he was the only one moving in the world.
After turning a few trees, he saw the flickering firelight.
The bonfire burned, its flames not particularly strong, but it shone brightly in the night.
Around the fire sat three people, their heads lowered as they ate meat.
Their fur coats looked a bit worn, as if they'd been worn for many years. Snow was thickly piled on top, making them look like they had been stranded in the forest for a long time.
The hunter stood from a distance and watched for a few seconds before smiling and walking over.
"Hey, guys, are you celebrating the New Year? What meat are you roasting? It smells great!"
The three did not respond.
The hunter frowned and took a few more steps forward.
The firelight illuminated the backs of the three, and snow fell on their shoulders. They continued to devour the meat in their hands, their movements fast, even frenzied.
The hunter sniffed the air; the smell of the meat was still strong, but for some reason, he began to feel uneasy.
"Hey, guys, did you... get lost?"
He cautiously asked, "This forest is pretty deep, which direction are you headed? Do you need me to guide you?"
Still, there was no response.
The hunter stood still, his smile fading as he observed their actions. He noticed that their fingers were unnaturally pale, even sickly, with a faint bluish-grey hue.
Though the bonfire burned brightly, the hunter couldn't feel any warmth from the flames. The three people's bodies remained stiff, almost like puppets, with no sign of relaxation.
The hunter felt something was wrong and took a step back, swallowing nervously, preparing to turn and leave.
Just then, a low, hoarse voice came from beside the fire—
"Don't go... come eat with us!"
The hunter's hair stood on end. He whipped around, only to see one of the figures slowly raise their head.
Under the firelight, the person's face was gaunt and pale, skin stretched tightly over their cheekbones, their eye sockets deep, with almost no visible white in their eyes.
Their lips were cracked, and bits of meat were stuck to their teeth, a strand of dark blood dripping from the corner of their mouth.
The hunter's breath stalled for a second, his mind screaming one thought—this was not a living person!
"This is bad, I've wandered into the domain of the wild spirits."
The hunter cursed inwardly and instinctively took sev