The forest was darker than usual that night.
Clouds blotted out the moon, and a heavy dampness clung to the air, the kind that made every sound feel muffled, as though the world were holding its breath. Blackwood Forest was never a safe place, but tonight it felt hostile—like the shadows themselves were waiting for something to die.
Shen Qing pushed through the undergrowth, his breath uneven, a grimace twisting his face every few steps. Sweat drenched his forehead despite the cold. His right leg dragged faintly behind him, leaving a thin trail on the muddy ground. Even someone unfamiliar with hunting could have seen it: he was close to collapsing.
He had been hunting boar, a simple job for a man like him. The village counted on him; the people needed meat, especially now that winter crept closer. Shen Qing was used to danger. Used to long nights spent stalking shadows. Used to swallowing fear because someone had to.
What he wasn't used to… was that thing.
He didn't even know what to call it. It had horns like a ram, limbs like a panther, and a jaw full of serrated teeth. Its roar had rattled his bones. And when it struck him across the back, the pain had been blinding.
He would have died—he knew that. If he hadn't leapt into the gorge stream, letting the current drag him far away, leaving blood in his wake.
Now, soaked, shivering, and bleeding, he was barely holding on.
A branch snapped somewhere behind him.
Shen Qing stiffened.
No. He couldn't fight. He couldn't run. Even breathing felt like a luxury.
He stumbled forward, each step heavier than the last. His vision wavered. The forest swayed around him as though the earth, the trees, and the shadows had begun blurring into one another. His lips felt numb.
His heart thudded dully in his chest.
He knew this feeling.
Dying.
It was cold, quiet, strangely peaceful. A heaviness settled over him, pulling him downward. His knees buckled. He collapsed onto wet leaves, his cheek pressed against the soil. His fingers twitched weakly, grasping at nothing.
"Not yet…" he whispered to the earth, though the words barely escaped his throat. "Mother… wait for me… please…"
The forest didn't answer.
His eyes closed on their own.
Darkness swallowed him silently.
—
In another corner of the forest, untouched by blood or fear, Li Wei meditated beside his shrine stone. His form glowed faintly in the moonless dark, a soft and steady pulse that blended with the quiet rhythm of the land. Mist drifted lazily around him, swirling in patterns he didn't control yet—but that seemed to welcome him.
His posture was perfect. His expression calm. To any mortal eye, he would have looked like a statue carved from pale jade, waiting patiently for time to pass.
Inside him, his divine core fluctuated steadily, absorbing the smallest threads of natural qi. Slow, but comforting. Steady.
Then—
A ripple.
A faint tremor brushed across his senses, like a whisper brushing the back of his mind.
[A mortal is on the verge of death within your domain.]
Li Wei opened his eyes.
"So soon?"
His tone carried neither surprise nor excitement. Only mild curiosity softened by a detachment that had settled into him naturally since becoming divine.
The system's voice drifted through him again.
[Strong emotional distress detected. High potential for faith formation.][Intervention recommended.]
Li Wei rose to his feet, the white fabric of his robe flowing around him without a breeze.
A human life.
A fragile flame flickering at the edge of his territory.
He didn't rush. He didn't show urgency. His steps were unhurried, deliberate. Even the mist parted respectfully as he passed.
"Very well," he murmured. "Let us see what fate brings tonight."
—
Shen Qing drifted in a vast, colorless void.
There was no ground beneath him, no sky above—just an endless pale emptiness. He floated without weight, unable to feel his limbs, unable to tell if he was breathing.
"Is this… death?" he whispered.
His voice echoed strangely, like it didn't truly belong to him.
Then something shifted.
A light appeared far in the distance. At first he thought it was a star. But it grew brighter, clearer, sharper, until it wasn't a point of light but a figure—tall, calm, radiating a quiet, dignified presence that made Shen Qing's heart tremble.
He felt himself pulled toward it.
When he touched the ground, his knees gave out immediately, and he crumpled forward in a kneeling position without thinking. His forehead pressed against cold, smooth surface.
His entire being shivered.
A god.
There was no other word he could use. The presence was too vast, too serene, too… complete. It reminded him of the mountains, of ancient temples, of the old stories elders whispered around firelight.
But all the gods had disappeared centuries ago.
Haven't they?
The figure before him did not speak. Did not move. Yet his silence pressed on Shen Qing like a thousand unspoken truths.
Shen Qing swallowed hard.
"G–Great One… Forgive this unworthy mortal for intruding into Your realm…" His voice trembled. "I—I don't wish to die yet. My mother… she relies on me alone. Please… if there is any mercy within You, spare this life. I beg You."
He bowed lower, desperation twisting his words.
For a long moment, the void was utterly silent.
Then the figure finally lifted a hand.
A voice echoed out—not loud, but impossibly clear, gentle yet distant, carrying the cold dignity of something far above mortal affairs.
"If your heart still has a place in this world… then live."
Golden light spread outward, washing through the void like sunrise.
—
Shen Qing gasped awake.
Air surged into his lungs painfully, sharply, as his entire body jerked in shock. He clutched at the ground, coughing hard. His ribs ached, but he was breathing. He was alive.
He pushed himself onto his elbows, blinking until the forest came into focus.
He was no longer lying in the same place.
Someone had moved him.
Or something.
His wounds—he touched his back with trembling fingers—they were nearly closed. Only faint scars remained, the bleeding completely stopped. His pain had dulled to a faint ache.
That alone was impossible.
He should be dead.
Shen Qing forced himself to sit upright, leaning against a tree trunk. His breath steadied slowly, though his heart continued to race.
That voice…
That figure…
He remembered it with startling clarity.
Divine.
There was no other explanation.
He bowed his head instinctively, even though no one was there.
"Great One… thank You. I owe You my life."
His voice was soft, but in that quiet forest, it echoed as though acknowledged by unseen ears.
He didn't dare linger. His mother would be worried sick. Still, every few steps, he glanced back toward the trees with a strange sense of reverence—fear mixed with gratitude.
He had met something sacred.
And he had survived.
—
Back at the shrine stone, Li Wei resumed his meditation, though his posture remained slightly different—a faint hint of contemplation softened his otherwise still form.
Inside his divine core, a tiny spark drifted in.
Warm. Light. Faint.
[Believer established: Shen Qing][Belief Level: Low → Daily Faith: +1][Faith gathered today: 1][Stored Faith: 1][Conversion to incense scheduled for the 1st and 15th.]
A soft thread of faith coiled inside him, like a small flame flickering in the heart of his divine spirit.
Li Wei exhaled slowly.
To the mortal he had saved, it had been a miracle, an act of grace.
To Li Wei, it had been… a natural duty.
Not compassion. Not selfishness.
Just an action consistent with the distant, restrained nature he now embraced.
Still, as that tiny spark warmed his core, a faint expression crossed his otherwise serene face—something close to a smile, but subtle enough to vanish in an instant.
"So this is faith," he murmured. "Small, fragile… yet it carries weight."
He closed his eyes again.
Even a single believer was enough to change a newborn god's world.
—
Shen Qing reached his home long after midnight. The lights inside the small house were still lit—his mother waiting anxiously, pacing near the hearth. When he stumbled through the door, she gasped sharply.
"Qing'er! What happened? You're hurt—"
He gently took her hands, smiling weakly.
"I'm alright, Mother. More than alright."
He didn't tell her about the creature that tried to kill him.
He didn't tell her about the god he had seen in the void.
Not yet.
Some things felt too sacred to speak casually.
But when he lay down to rest, staring at the wooden ceiling of their old home, his thoughts drifted again and again to that presence… to the golden glow… to the calm, ancient voice.
A deity.
A real deity.
Still in this world.
Still watching.
Still saving those who prayed sincerely.
Shen Qing pressed a hand to his chest, over his beating heart.
"Great One," he whispered softly, "I will repay this grace. I swear it."
And far away in the depths of Blackwood Forest, Li Wei sat beside his shrine stone, eyes closed, posture still as mountain stone. Mist swirled around him with a reverent quiet, acknowledging his presence in the way the world once acknowledged gods long forgotten.
A single spark of faith burned inside him.
Small.
But real.
The first step toward something greater.
The first whisper of a forgotten age returning.
The first believer of a god who should not exist… but now did.