And then another.
As I walked towards the stone sculpture, the林魈 began to move. Not aggressively, not yet. They simply shuffled closer, surrounding the clearing in a loose, undulating circle. Their movements were slow, deliberate, and deeply unsettling.
It felt like walking into a trap, with the animals closing in.
I reached the edge of the mound where the stone sculpture stood. The 林魈 were now only a few feet away, their twisted limbs almost within reach. I could see the intricate, disturbing details of their forms – the way their flesh seemed to twist and fold unnaturally, the tiny, sharp claws at the end of their limbs, the empty, yet watchful, eyes.
Their murmuring sounds intensified, a chorus of discomfort and anticipation.
I placed my hand on the stone sculpture. It was rough and cold, but underneath the coldness, I felt a faint vibration, a resonance with the wood雕 in my other hand.
As I touched the stone, both the wood雕 and the stone sculpture began to glow faintly, their light intertwined. And as the light grew stronger, the surrounding Lin Xiao reacted violently.