As the morning light stretched across Yunshan Province, the town awakened to another day of survival and hard work.

  The streets were already bustling, filled with merchants setting up their stalls, children laughing as they played in the snow, and carriages of all sizes struggling to move—their wheels and hooves crunching against the frozen ground. Oxen and horses snorted out misty breaths, their owners urging them forward through the winter’s embrace.

  Even in the harshest of seasons, life in Yunshan never stopped.

  Within the modest Li family courtyard, the morning chores had begun.

  Li Xun, ever responsible, swept the snow-covered floor with steady strokes, making way for the day’s activities. Nearby, little Li Yue, determined to be useful, scrubbed the wooden furniture inside the house—though her small hands barely made a difference.

  At the other end of the courtyard, Li Yuntai, with his sleeves rolled up, wielded his axe, splitting firewood into smaller, more manageable sizes. Each strike sent crisp echoes into the cold air, blending with the distant sounds of the waking town.

  Once their morning tasks were complete, the family gathered around the wooden dining table for their meal.

  As always, Li Heng sat at the head, watching over his children with quiet strength. Despite the weariness of responsibility, a faint warmth settled in his gaze—grateful to share another meal with his children.

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  Li Yue, ever lively, swung her legs under the table, nibbling at her warm bun.

  Li Xun ate with refined manners, silently observing the mood of their father.

  Yuntai, though physically recovered, still carried the weight of last night’s events on his shoulders.

  Li Heng took a sip of warm tea before setting his cup down with purpose. His deep voice broke the morning’s light chatter.

  “Little Yue, go outside and play for a while.”

  The young girl looked up in surprise. “Eh? But I want to listen too!”

  Her father shook his head. “This is for grown-ups.”

  Puffing her cheeks in protest, Li Yue sighed dramatically. “Fine, but I’ll ask later!” She hopped off her chair and skipped outside, mumbling to herself about how ‘grown-ups always had secrets.’

  With Yue gone, the air in the room grew heavier.

  Li Heng leaned forward, his gaze sharp. “Now, tell me everything.”

  Yuntai took a deep breath, his fingers subconsciously tightening around his cup.

  “It started when I went into the forest to gather firewood...”

  He recounted everything in detail—the ambush by the wolves, the desperate escape, and finally, the mysterious rectangular box that had saved his life.

  When he described the strange reaction of the wolves, Li Xun furrowed his brows. “A box that even animals fear?”

  Li Heng’s expression remained unreadable, but his fingers tapped lightly against the table—a silent sign of deep thought.

  Then, without another word, Yuntai stood up and retrieved the hidden box from where he had buried it among the firewood in the kitchen.

  He carried it back to the table and placed it down carefully.

  The family stared at the simple, unassuming monument-like box. It looked like an ordinary wooden relic, neither extravagant nor ancient. And yet…

  The air in the room seemed to shift.

  A faint, almost imperceptible pressure spread through the space, sending a cold shiver down their spines.

  Even Li Heng, a man who had seen much in his life, narrowed his eyes. Something was definitely not ordinary about this box.

  “Where did this come from…?” he murmured under his breath.

  Silence filled the room.

  The Li family had unknowingly welcomed a great mystery into their home.