He despised things that faded away ephemerely. He hated the waning moon, so he would only take walks on new moon nights, and he hated falling flowers, so he would pluck them while still in bud. A foolish and stubborn child. Someone had sighed. Those words were true. That place was a mountain where the sounds of insects fell silent. A m...
He despised things that faded away ephemerely. He hated the waning moon, so he would only take walks on new moon nights, and he hated falling flowers, so he would pluck them while still in bud. A foolish and stubborn child. Someone had sighed. Those words were true. That place was a mountain where the sounds of insects fell silent. A mountain of shadows where even moonlight could not reach, named Jaha Mountain (Purple Mist Mountain) for the mist that flowed endlessly down its slopes. Even in an age when superstitions were fading, the ghost stories of Jaha Mountain never ceased. On that mountain, a leopard that had killed a god was trapped—not a mountain lord but a fallen lord. Anyone who crossed the sacred rope barrier and entered the mountain would be devoured by the fallen lord... Jaha M
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