The Herb Tribe had gathered near the eastern clearing — their faces solemn, their eyes heavy with both fear and reverence.

At the center of the clearing stood a massive ox — or rather, something far larger. The beast's skin gleamed faintly with spiritual patterns, its body covered in a dense layer of emerald fur. Its horns were coiled like living vines, glowing faintly with runic symbols of offering.

The air around it was fragrant, almost intoxicating. Piled upon its broad back was an extravagant collection of rare treasures — shimmering herbs, crystal fruits, and beast flowers that pulsed faintly with spirit energy. Some of the fruits were glowing faintly gold, others silver, and the faint scent that wafted from them could make one's blood feel lighter.

These were no ordinary offerings. They were the treasures of decades — gathered through quiet desperation, hidden in secret from outsiders, and now destined to be consumed by the Fire Python that ruled their lives.

The old elder, her back slightly bent but her eyes sharp as steel, gave final orders in the musical tongue of her people.

"Bind the vines tighter — no fruit must fall. The beast accepts nothing less than perfection."

Several young spirits scurried to obey, their green fingers weaving luminous ropes of grass and root, securing every fruit and herb onto the ox's massive back. The ox, patient and silent, chewed a mouthful of leaves lazily as it waited for the ritual to begin.

Nearby, Mo Han stood quietly, watching the preparations.

He was calm, his eyes steady, though inwardly he could feel the faint buzz of nervous energy in the air. The scent of spirit essence hung so thick it almost clouded thought.

The little green boy — the one who had brought him here — hovered beside him, his small face twisted with both admiration and fear. "You're really going," he whispered softly. "Even after hearing about the python."

Mo Han nodded slightly. "I said I would help. I keep my word."

The boy's golden eyes shimmered with emotion. "You're strange, human. My brother said humans are greedy. But you…" He trailed off, as if unsure how to describe him.

Mo Han gave a faint smile. "Maybe I'm both."

Before the boy could reply, the elder spirit approached. She leaned heavily on her staff, carved from old spiritwood, and looked Mo Han over from head to toe. "The beast will take you as the offering," she said quietly. "Do not resist until the time comes. If you anger it before you reach the Spirit Well, even your bones will turn to ash."

"I understand."

She gestured to the ox. "This sacred beast knows the way. It will lead you through the forest's heart, across the river of mist, and down the ridge of flames. Follow it, and you'll find the Well."

Mo Han turned toward the ox, studying it. Its large, luminous eyes regarded him with placid intelligence. It didn't seem bothered by the thought of walking into the Fire Python's den.

"Will it come back?" he asked quietly.

The old woman hesitated, then shook her head. "No beast has ever returned."

The boy gasped softly, clutching Mo Han's robe. "Please… please don't die."

Mo Han placed a hand on the child's head gently. "If fate wills it, I'll return. If not — make sure your people live freely one day."

The elder raised her staff. The vines on the ox's legs began to glow faintly as she murmured a prayer — an ancient hymn that vibrated through the air like the hum of the forest itself.

"The forest witnesses," she intoned. "The earth remembers. The offering departs."

As the last note faded, the ox snorted, stamping its heavy hooves. Its horns flashed briefly, and the vines restraining it loosened. It turned toward the eastern path — a narrow trail between thick, ancient trees — and began to walk.

Mo Han climbed atop its broad back, sitting cross-legged amidst the mountain of treasures. The fruits glowed faintly around him, reflecting light across his calm face.

As the ox began its slow march, the Herb Tribe knelt in unison. Their low hum of farewell carried through the clearing, haunting and beautiful.

Mo Han raised a hand once, a simple gesture of parting — and then disappeared into the shadowed forest, leaving behind the tribe's hopeful, tear-stained faces.

The journey was slow, almost hypnotic.

The ox walked at a steady pace, its hooves sinking into the mossy ground with heavy, rhythmic thuds. Every step echoed faintly, as if the forest itself answered the sound. The trees here were thicker, older — their branches formed a green roof that swallowed sunlight and turned the world into shades of gold and shadow.

Mo Han sat still for the first few hours, his eyes scanning the wilderness. He could sense faint ripples of aura all around — spirit creatures hidden among the trees, their curiosity restrained by the sacred scent of the offering.

Once or twice, he spotted glowing eyes watching from the dark — a giant serpent, a clawed shadow, or something winged. Yet none dared approach. The scent of the Fire Python's dominion was everywhere.

After what felt like half a day, boredom began to settle in.

The ox was steady but painfully slow. The silence stretched endlessly, broken only by the creak of vines and the faint crunch of moss beneath hooves.

Mo Han leaned back, letting his gaze drift over the mountain of fruits beside him.

There were spirit peaches, glistening with dew that smelled like honey; crystal berries that glowed like miniature stars; and herb bundles whose scent made his entire body feel lighter. Even the flowers woven into the ropes emitted a faint warmth of healing energy.

He picked up a fruit — round and golden, pulsing faintly with spiritual energy. "Hmm," he muttered. "They did say this was for the Fire Python."

He took a bite.

The explosion of taste nearly made him hum aloud. Sweet, fragrant, and so rich in aura that his veins tingled instantly. "Not bad," he murmured. "Would be a shame to let this go to waste."

He took another. And another.

Within the next hour, half the tribute was gone. The herbs gave him bursts of calm energy, the fruits filled his meridians with soft vitality, and one strange blossom even cleared the ache in his joints.

"The Fire Python won't mind," he said lazily, lying back against the pile. "It'll probably eat me instead of the fruit anyway."

The ox gave no reaction, plodding forward with its steady rhythm.

By sunset, Mo Han's belly was full, his lips sticky with sweet juice, and his mind comfortably relaxed. He looked around — the forest canopy was glowing faintly with bioluminescent flowers, and fireflies hovered like drifting stars. The path ahead was painted in soft green light.

He yawned, stretching slightly. "You walk, I'll rest," he said, patting the ox's back.

The great beast snorted softly — a low, almost amused sound — and continued walking.

Mo Han leaned back against the remaining herbs, his eyelids heavy.

Within moments, his breathing slowed, deep and even.

The ox trudged on through the night, its hooves silent on the moss. The glowing vines on its horns pulsed softly, illuminating the path ahead.

The human slept among offerings meant for a monster, smiling faintly, while the loyal ox carried him ever closer to the heart of danger.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.