The night had passed, and the Nanling Forests at dawn were eerily quiet. Orange-red sunlight pierced through tree trunks and swaying branches, glistening on dewdrops.
The tall ancient trees were covered with various fungi, mushrooms, and vines, while green, black, and yellow mosses draped every corner of the forest. Enveloping white mist mingled between all trees, gradually taking on various colors with the breathing of fungi and the forest.
The miasma, or rather, the language of the forest, echoed through the woods with the wind. The colorful mist symbolized death and poison to Humans, but in reality, it teemed with vibrant life; it was just that Humans were too fragile to understand the power of this complex language.
The forest was alive.
It sounded like a pointless statement; after all, trees simply don't move, and are alive by nature.
But Elder Man Cliff of the Avod Tribe knew that this was far from a pointless statement— it was an emphasis.