Lin Fan stepped into the wall of white fog, and the world transformed. The already muffled sounds of the wetlands became further dampened, creating an oppressive silence broken only by the soft gurgle of unseen water nearby and the faint drip of condensation from the ghostly outlines of weeping willow trees. Visibility plummeted; he could barely see ten meters ahead, the thick mist swirling like a living entity, constantly shifting and obscuring his view.
His fifth layer spiritual sense, usually sharp enough to detect subtle movements or energy fluctuations from much further away, felt strangely blunted here, as if wading through thick cotton. The fog itself seemed to possess a unique quality that interfered with perception. Even the air felt heavy, laden with moisture and an almost cloying scent of decay and wet earth.
Disorienting, indeed, Lin Fan acknowledged internally. He slowed his pace considerably, activating his Silent Step Insoles and relying on his basic senses – sharp hearing, keen eyesight within the limited range, and cautious footwork. He kept one hand near his Flowing Shadow Sword, the other ready to cast a Wind Blade or retrieve a talisman instantly.
He began moving parallel to the unseen creek bed, recalling the patrol logs mentioning signs of struggle were often found near the water. The ground was soft, muddy in places, littered with decaying leaves and the occasional protruding root. He occasionally used his Basic Appraisal skill on peculiar-looking fungi growing on willow bark or oddly shaped stones near the water's edge, but the feedback was consistently mundane – [Dampwood Fungus], [River Stone], [Decaying Willow Root]. Nothing out of the ordinary yet.
After about twenty minutes of careful progress, he found the first concrete sign. Snagged on a low-hanging willow branch, almost invisible against the grey bark, was a torn strip of familiar blue fabric – the standard material of an Azure Cloud Sect Outer Disciple robe. Nearby, half-pressed into the mud, was a small, empty vial that once likely held a basic Qi Gathering Pill. Lin Fan crouched, examining the torn fabric. It looked relatively fresh, perhaps only a week or two old.
He continued onward, his vigilance heightened. A few meters further, he spotted them: claw marks gouged deep into the muddy bank of the creek. Large, canine prints accompanied them – definitely belonging to beasts, not human cultivators. And then, faint reddish-brown stains on some nearby reeds – dried blood.
He was getting closer to where at least one disciple had met trouble. As he straightened up from examining the bloodstains, a low growl materialized directly from the fog to his right.
Simultaneously, the fog in front of him swirled violently, and a large, grey shape lunged out – a Mist Hound. Its form flickered, partially obscured by the very mist it seemed to command, its eyes glowing with a pale, eerie light. Its aura pulsed at the fifth layer.
Lin Fan reacted instantly. Wind Step took him backwards as the hound's claws slashed through the space he'd occupied. Before it could recover, another growl sounded from his left, and a second Mist Hound burst from the fog, this one exhaling a thick plume of concentrated white vapor directly at him.
This wasn't just fog; it carried a disorienting quality, affecting both sight and spiritual sense, even more intensely than the ambient mist. Lin Fan held his breath instinctively and used Wind Step again, dodging laterally out of the cloud's path while launching two swift Wind Blades towards the sources of the growls.
The first Wind Blade connected, drawing a pained yelp as it sliced into the flank of the initial attacker. The second hound, however, anticipated the counter after exhaling its mist. It dodged agilely, the Wind Blade dissipating harmlessly against the swirling fog.
Two fifth layer Mist Hounds, using the fog to their advantage. They circled Lin Fan, appearing and disappearing within the white shroud, their movements surprisingly silent despite their size. Their strategy was clear: disorient, flank, and overwhelm.
Lin Fan stood his ground, sword held ready, relying on his sharp hearing and Qi sense to track their movements within the limited visibility. He activated Iron Skin Art as a precaution.
A grey blur lunged from his left. Lin Fan parried with his sword, the clang echoing strangely in the damp air. Immediately, the other hound attacked from his right, jaws snapping. He spun, sword deflecting the bite, while simultaneously using Wind Step to create distance again.
Faster than the Shadowfangs, more reliant on stealth and disorientation, he analyzed. Need to disrupt their environment.
He unleashed a rapid series of Wind Blades, not aimed directly at the hounds, but horizontally around him, sending sharp gusts of Qi slicing through the fog. The effect was immediate – the swirling mist was violently dispersed in a radius of several meters around him, granting him precious moments of clearer visibility.
In that clarity, he saw both hounds momentarily exposed. He didn't hesitate. Enhanced Wind Step closed the distance to the nearest one – the one he'd already injured. His Flowing Shadow Sword, infused with dense Qi, flashed in a complex arc, severing tendons and piercing its heart before it could react.
The second hound, seeing its packmate fall and its mist cover disrupted, tried to retreat back into the thicker fog bank. Lin Fan wasn't about to let it escape or potentially warn others. Another burst of Wind Step, faster than the hound's retreat, put him directly in its path. A single, clean thrust with his sword ended the fight.
Two Mist Hounds dispatched. Lin Fan stood for a moment, catching his breath, the clearing he'd created in the fog already beginning to fill in again as the mist slowly swirled back. He examined the carcasses. Standard fifth layer beasts, moderately powerful, certainly dangerous to lower-level disciples, especially with their fog abilities. But did they explain seven disappearances without a trace? It seemed unlikely. Their attacks were vicious, but they left behind evidence – blood, tracks, likely body parts if they fed. The reports mentioned clean disappearances.
Something else was at play here.
He continued deeper along the creek, the fog seeming to grow unnaturally thick, pressing in around him. He started hearing things – faint whispers that seemed to slither at the edge of his hearing, sounding like distorted voices or mournful cries. Were they real, or just tricks of the wind and his own mind? Occasionally, he'd catch fleeting movements out of the corner of his eye – shadowy figures darting between trees, only to vanish when he looked directly. Illusions?
He focused his mind, resisting the subtle mental pressure, and swallowed one of his Spirit Recovery Pills as a precaution, feeling its cool energy soothe his spiritual sense, sharpening his focus against potential illusions or mental attacks.
The creek bed narrowed here, flowing between moss-covered boulders. The faint, unusual Qi fluctuation he'd vaguely sensed earlier grew slightly stronger, masked heavily by the fog and the natural energy of the wetlands. It felt... cold, and strangely stagnant.
He followed this faint sensation, pushing aside dripping willow tendrils. The fog became incredibly dense, visibility dropping to only a few feet. He could barely see the murky water flowing past his boots. The whispers seemed louder here, more insistent.
Then, his foot struck something solid, hidden beneath the water and mud near the bank. It wasn't a rock. He knelt, reaching down into the cold water, feeling around. His fingers brushed against carved stone. Clearing away the mud and weeds, he uncovered it – a series of strange, interconnected runes carved directly into a large, flat stone embedded in the creek bank, almost entirely submerged and hidden.
He used Basic Appraisal: [Item: Ancient Rune Stone Fragment. Material: Creekstone (Infused with trace Yin Qi). Quality: Low-Grade Spiritual (Energy Fading). Effect: Unknown (Pattern Incomplete, Likely part of larger formation).].
Yin Qi? A formation? This was definitely not natural. As he examined the runes, the fog around the stone seemed to swirl even more intensely, and the whispers intensified, coalescing into a single, chilling phrase repeated over and over, echoing directly in his mind:
"...join us... stay forever..."
Lin Fan stood up abruptly, sword in hand, his eyes scanning the impenetrable white wall of fog surrounding him. He had found the heart of the anomaly. This wasn't just Mist Hounds. Something else resided in Old Willow Creek, something that used formations, illusions, and lured disciples to their doom.