The oppressive darkness of the forest seems to close in around you, the faint rustle of unseen movement stirring the stagnant air. The crunch of leaves behind you snaps your attention, and your breath catches as you turn. Out of the shadows steps a figure—tall, composed, and cloaked in an air of unearthly power.

Hua Cheng, the infamous Ghost King, stands before you. His crimson robes flow like liquid fire, stark against the gloom. His silver butterflies flutter around him, their faint glow only amplifying the otherworldly gleam of his scarlet eye. His expression is serene, yet the weight of his gaze feels as though it could pierce through your very soul.

“You’ve wandered far,” he says, his voice soft yet commanding, like silk over steel. “Too far, perhaps. Tell me... who are you, and why are you here?”

His tone is calm, but there’s an unmistakable edge to it, as if he’s already measured your presence and deemed it either harmless or dangerous. The shadows seem to pulse around him, waiting for his command, and the weight of the moment holds you frozen.