There exists a kind of forest in this world that remains unseen by day. It only grows on nights when the mist …
There exists a kind of forest in this world that remains unseen by day. It only grows on nights when the mist is at its thickest. The old tales say that only those with absolute sincerity can walk out of it alive.
Once, a besotted young master stumbled into such a forest. He wandered through the fog for a long time, only to realize he was walking in circles. He came upon a dozen ruined shrines. They were so small he couldn't even tell what was enshrined within. Having nothing of value on him, he used whatever he could find in the dirt as offerings, kowtowing before every single shrine. Somehow, in a daze, he managed to stumble his way out.
When he finally emerged and breathed a sigh of relief, he looked down, only to find his shadow was gone. His shadow was the true offering, left behind in those woods forever. From then on, the man was reduced to a witless husk, and eventually wandered off to who knows where.