The forest air felt heavier now.
Lee stood just at the edge of the burned woodland, the same place where Hei Bai once rampaged years ago. Now silent and still, it had become his domain — or at least, the first corner of it.
Behind him were three boys from the village. They weren't particularly bright or brave, but they were useful. Loyal enough. He had spent years planting seeds in their minds, presenting himself as the quiet prodigy, the one who understood strange things, who saw things in the woods they didn't.
"I heard a fox scream," one of them whispered. "Sounded like a person."
Lee just smiled. "That's normal. Spirits don't scream like animals."
That shut them up.
They weren't here for bravery. They were here because Lee had told them that if they came, they might glimpse something powerful — maybe even learn a trick or two. Boys were easy to manipulate when you promised power.
Lee knelt near a patch of blackened bark. The scorched trees here still carried a smell of soot, despite the years.
He closed his eyes and reached inward — not outward. The fear aura he had taken from Hei Bai was still clumsy, raw. But the essence of it… it lived in him now.
He exhaled.
The shadows around him shifted.
Somewhere nearby, a squirrel darted from a branch, caught in the radius of his experimental aura. It froze mid-movement, its heart racing so fast he could hear it. Then it fled, tumbling over itself.
One of the boys jumped.
"What the— Did you see that?"
Lee looked at him calmly. "It felt something ancient."
No more explanation. Just enough to stoke awe.
They wouldn't follow him too deep into the forest. That was fine. He had already told them to wait near the edge.
Once alone, Lee moved into the deeper woods. There, the shadows whispered louder.
He had spent the last few weeks practicing the aura — trying to separate it from his own emotions. Fear had been the key. Hei Bai's essence wasn't just a tool. It was an imprint of something raw — wrathful, protective, primal.
At first, it lashed out on instinct. But Lee had begun to mold it.
He would walk among the trees and make the birds silent. He would focus on small things — frogs, mice — and watch how they trembled.
Power wasn't just about destruction. It was about presence.
Still, that wasn't enough. He wanted more.
Back in the village, by night, he had scoured stolen scrolls and half-burned records from old temples. Spirit rituals were rare, most destroyed by the Fire Nation. But in oral stories from elders, he found fragments: binding circles, offerings, names.
And from Hei Bai's own rage, he had sensed something.
Spirits could be consumed — not eaten like meat, but absorbed into the soul, like a drop of ink into water. It had worked once. It could work again.
But only on weaker spirits — those without strong ties to realms or temples.
Tonight, he would try.
He had baited the woods with fruit and burning incense stolen from a traveling merchant. The smell was strong. Sweet.
He sat in silence, the markings drawn in charcoal before him. A faint shimmer passed over the trees.
Then — a flicker. A spirit no larger than a cat appeared. A drifting thing, pale green and trembling like leaves in the wind.
Lee narrowed his eyes.
He activated the aura, but lightly — just enough to stir dread. The spirit twitched.
Then, calmly, he pressed his hand to the binding circle.
The ground pulsed. His energy extended.
And the spirit — shivering, uncertain — began to dissolve, threads of its form pulled into his hand like steam.
Lee winced. It was more painful this time. The spirit fought, weak but desperate.
He breathed through it, endured.
When it was done, the night was still again.
Inside, the fear aura felt sharper. More precise. But there was something else now — a sliver of sensation, like floating. Like wind.
Interesting.
He stood, his body shaking slightly from the exertion.
But he smiled.
From the ashes, I rise.
And now, I hunt.
Soon, he would return to the burned forest again.
And this time, he would go deeper.