Fangwood Hamlet

In a realm where the pursuit of cultivation can lead one to immortality, wielding powers so vast that a mere gesture could obliterate continents, the world thrived with grandeur and mystique. Magnificent kingdoms stretched across the horizon, their opulent palaces crowned with gems that captured the essence of the sun. Sects, monumental in their size and ambition, rose high into the heavens, sprawling across millions of kilometers, their topmost spires hidden amongst the clouds. This world was a spectacle of human triumph in mastery over the mystic arts, a place where the impossible seemed mundane.

Yet, in stark contrast to these bastions of cultivation and power, lay the secluded Fangwood Hamlet. Nestled deep within a foreboding wilderness, this tiny community of barely twenty souls was encircled by the untamed wilds—a stark border where the light of civilization faded into the shadows of primal terror. It was in this isolation that a small, weather-worn house clung to the edge of survival, harboring two young children: Leon and his older sister, Mei.

On a night shrouded by the dense fog that often rolled down from the dark woods, Leon, a boy with a mixed heritage of Western and Chinese descent, found himself ensnared in a vivid nightmare. In the nebulous realm of his dreams, the tranquility of the hamlet was violently torn asunder. The air was thick with the scent of fear and the ominous howling of winds that carried whispers of doom.

In his dream, the skies above Fangwood darkened ominously as monstrous beings descended upon the hamlet. These creatures, grotesque parodies of the natural world, bore twisted limbs and gnashing teeth, their eyes glowing with a malevolent hunger. The earth trembled under their weight as they breached the barriers between the wilds and the human habitation.

Leon's heart raced as he watched helplessly. The monsters rampaged through the hamlet, their roars echoing like thunderclaps, shattering the night's silence. Houses that had stood for generations were reduced to rubble beneath their mighty claws. The villagers, caught in a futile attempt to flee or fight, were swept away or crushed under the immense force of the invaders.

Most horrifying of all was the sight of his sister, Mei. In his nightmare, Leon saw her standing defiantly against a beast many times her size. Her small frame shook with determination, yet her eyes betrayed a palpable fear. The monster, its skin a patchwork of scales and oozing sores, towered over her. With a swift motion, it lunged forward, its jaws wide open.

Leon screamed, trying to run towards her, but his feet were mired in an invisible sludge that held him back. He strained against the unseen force, his hands reaching out desperately as the monster snapped its jaws shut around Mei, pulling her into an abyss of teeth and darkness. The sound of her cries pierced through the chaos, drilling into Leon's soul.

The dream shifted, the scenery melting into a blur of colors as Leon continued to hear the echoes of his sister's terror. The monsters turned their dreadful eyes towards him, their intent clear as they advanced. Leon felt the hot breath of one creature, its face inches from his own, its foul stench overwhelming him.

With a start, Leon awoke, gasping for air, his small body drenched in sweat. The moonlight streamed through the cracks of his humble wooden home, casting long, eerie shadows across the room he shared with Mei, who lay quietly sleeping, unaware of the dark visions that haunted her brother. Leon's heart still pounded fiercely against his chest as he tried to orient himself back to reality, the remnants of fear slowly dissolving in the tranquility of the night.

Yet, as the calm settled over him, Leon couldn't shake the feeling that the nightmare was a sinister premonition of what was to come, or perhaps a reflection of the deep-seated fears that stemmed from their vulnerable existence on the fringes of a world filled with unknown and powerful forces.

After calming down from his unsettling nightmare, Leon lay back down, his mind still reeling from the vivid images of destruction. As he drifted back towards sleep, his sister Mei, even in her slumber, seemed to sense his distress. Subconsciously, she reached out and pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him in a protective hug. This small act of sibling comfort allowed Leon to finally succumb to a more peaceful sleep.

Several hours later, the first rays of the bright morning sun pierced through the gaps in the wooden shutters of their small house, rousing both siblings from their slumber. Leon, still shadowed by the remnants of his dream, tried to behave as any five-year-old might in the wake of a bad dream—attempting to mask his lingering fear with a veneer of normalcy. However, Mei, observant and concerned, noticed the slight pallor of his face and the hesitancy in his movements.

"What's wrong, Leon? Did you have another bad dream?" she asked gently, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.

Leon nodded, his eyes downcast. "Yes, the same one again. The monsters were destroying the village and... and they got you," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper.

Mei's brow furrowed in worry. "That's the fifth time this month you've had this nightmare," she stated, her tone a mix of concern and frustration. She sat beside him, pondering the recurring dreams that seemed to haunt her little brother. "Why do you keep having these nightmares? What could they mean?" she mused aloud, though she knew she was unlikely to find an answer.

The room fell silent as Mei racked her brain for any logical explanation, but nothing seemed to make sense. There was no obvious reason for Leon's dreams to be so consistently terrifying and specific.

After a long pause, during which the only sound was the distant chirping of birds and the gentle rustling of leaves outside, Leon spoke up, his voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the quiet of the room. "Maybe it means something bad is going to happen... Maybe it's a warning... about the village... about us," he suggested, his words heavy with a child's understanding of ominous portents.

Mei looked at her brother, her heart aching at his frightened expression. She knew she had to be strong for both of them. "Even if it is a warning, we're together, and we'll face anything as long as we have each other," she reassured him, pulling him into a gentle embrace.

Leon nodded, finding comfort in Mei's resolve. Together, they would face the day, each moment tinged with the uncertainty of Leon's nightmares, yet bolstered by the unyielding bond between siblings. The morning moved on, carrying with it the weight of an unseen future and the strength of a sister's love.

As Leon and Mei began preparing breakfast, Leon noticed the meager and aged state of their ingredients. He realized that their food supplies were dwindling, reminding him of the upcoming resource allocation from the village.

In Fangwood Hamlet, the system worked on communal effort—each household was responsible for contributing whatever they could produce or gather, be it food, materials, or labor. In return, the village pooled these resources and distributed them among the households based on their contributions. This distribution occurred periodically, ensuring that each family's needs were met in accordance with their participation in communal work.

Leon, concerned about their low supplies, suggested that it might be time for the village to allocate resources again. However, Mei corrected him, "No, it's still a few days away—more than ten days, actually." This left them in a predicament, needing to stretch what little they had until the distribution.