Nightmare Light

Chapter 56 Village in the Mist
The sound of footsteps broke the silence of the fog.

The soldiers gathered towards the middle of the team - two soldiers walked in the middle, escorting the Mist Clan member.

When Lin Wang and Lao Qiao ran to the location, dispersed the crowd, and ran to the front of the Mist Clan people, the scene in front of them scared them.

The member of the Mist Tribe in front of him was lying in the cart, curled up into a ball. Where the fog was lingering on his face, countless mists turned into black and yellow air currents, struggling frantically on his face, as if something was trying to escape from his face.

At the same time, countless crystalline fine dust particles were suspended and floating from other parts of his body, sprinkling into the mist and merging with it.

He was dying, merging with the mist.

Everyone at the scene had the same idea.

At this time, Lin Wang saw that the member of the Mist Tribe suddenly moved his body.

He slowly turned around and looked at everyone. His gaze stopped on the soldier closest to him. He opened his mouth and made several "ah" sounds, as if he wanted to say something.

But he was too weak, and after uttering “ah” for a long time, he could not form any useful words.

What did he want to say?
Lin Wang's heart moved.

The mental power completed the frequency tuning silently and began to connect the mental space of the Mist People little by little.

The next moment, he discovered that all the white fire seeds he left in the bodies of the Mist Clan members had been extinguished!
What? There is something that can restrain my white fire?
Is it when entering this fog?

Is there something in this fog that can restrain my fire?
Lin Wang was secretly alert and looked at the surrounding fog a few more times, but there was nothing around him except endless fog and indescribable things that only he could see.

Old Joe tried to ask the Mist people several questions, but after finding that they were completely unable to communicate, he gave up trying to communicate.

He took out the map, opened it and took a look, then muttered with some dissatisfaction: "This fog is so stupid." Then he moved the map closer, took a look at it, and handed it to Lin Wang.

"Brother Lin, you have good eyesight. I'll need you to help keep an eye on the road later." Old Qiao's thick fingers moved across the map and tapped a circled spot. "Our first stop is here. This is a town of the Mist Clan. The people here are quite friendly—most of them haven't yet become Mist Spirits, so we can still communicate."

"Why are you still using this kind of paper map?" Lin Wang asked curiously, "I saw them using a map that could conjure up maps in mid-air at the Public Security Bureau..."

"The Yinxu Ghost Sophora Guide Divination Technique is a traditional folk art." Old Qiao interrupted him and shook his head. "If it works, do you really think I wouldn't want to use it?"

He pointed at the fog and said, "This fog not only affects vision, but also inhibits secular magic. If we use secular magic as a map, what if it fails in the fog and we get dragged into a ditch?"

It turned out to be like this...

Lin Wang understood a little.

He nodded sincerely - these were all valuable experiences that might save his life at any time.

Then he heard Old Joe laugh: "Of course, the most important point is: I am nostalgic."

Lin Wang: “…”

After Old Qiao finished speaking, he waved his hand vigorously: "Medic, keep an eye on the Mist Tribe members, let's go!"

"No, Hehe...your He target...Hehe...is not right."

Lin Wang turned his head.

Behind him, the member of the Mist Tribe had stood up from the cart at some point - half of his body had almost completely turned into mist, and crystal-clear, sand-like mist was constantly growing from his body and floating into the air.

Seeing everyone turning their heads, he looked at Lin Wang and Lao Qiao, grinning with a weird smile that was strange and a little excited.

The Mist Tribe member raised his hand, and a ball of yellow mist the size of a fingernail swirled over the map and stopped at a certain spot.

"He...should go here."

……

at the same time.

Deeper into the endless fog.

A small village is faintly visible in the fog, with brick and stone rammed earth walls, mud and wood houses, and some villagers working in the village.

If you look closely, you can see that there are always some places on each villager's head, face, or limbs where mist is flowing.

A member of the Mist Tribe. The wheels creaked as a Mist Tribe man, a fist-sized wound on his neck, shrouded in mist, slowly pushed a wooden cart onto the street.

The man was thin and hunched, with a pale yellow complexion. He pushed the cart slowly for a while and stopped in front of a vegetable stall on the side of the road.

Behind the vegetable stall stood a middle-aged woman. Her entire chin turned into a yellow mist, and her tongue occasionally fell out through the mist, but she raised her hand and slowly put it back.

The man stared straight ahead. After about five or six seconds, he slowly turned his head and stared at the woman at the vegetable stall again.

"Good morning, Sister Zhao."

After the same five or six seconds, the lady at the vegetable stall held her chin and nodded at the man. Due to her tongue problem, she uttered some unclear and ambiguous words.

But the man seemed to understand, nodding very slowly: "Yes... We got quite a harvest, the cart floor is almost collapsing... Your vegetables are also very fresh today."

The deck was empty.

On the vegetable stall, there were three or four piles of black, rotten soil, so large that their shapes were no longer recognizable.

The man turned his head very slowly: "Let's go..., Sister Zhao."

Sister Zhao also nodded slowly and uttered a few unclear words.

She stared blankly at the man's slow steps, and suddenly she exerted force with her hands, stuffed her tongue into her mouth, and uttered something hoarse and strange, but understandable.

"We're almost home."

The man in front stopped, turned his head, and slowly forced a smile: "Yes... I felt it too..."

At the same time, on the roadside outside the village, two figures in black and yellow cloth were watching the villagers' every move.

"The synchronization rate...is getting closer and closer to the critical value."

The person who was speaking had black and yellow wrinkles all over his face and was squatting by the roadside with a black porcelain bowl in his hand.

He watched the villagers move as slowly as puppets, picked up a handful of soil from the ground, put it in his mouth, and licked it very slowly and forcefully.

"Sometimes, I really envy these ignorant mice."

"Tsk." He spat out the dirt. "I'm so lucky to be able to breathe the air of my hometown earlier than us..."

"Compared to what they've experienced, I think this little bit of luck is...not worth mentioning." His companion said, holding an opened scroll in his hand. The scroll was made of thick, yellow material and slightly reflective.

"Encounter? That's their luck!" The man holding the black porcelain bowl sneered. "For such a great cause as 'going home', a mere village... time has come."

He waved his hand and stood up, reaching into the bowl to grab a handful of dirt and sprinkle it on the ground.

The believers holding the scroll held the scroll in one hand and shook the copper bell with the other, chanting something and performing a bizarre dance.

"Ancestral blood nourishes the locust tree, and the genealogy continues the bloodline!"

"Ancestral blood nourishes the locust tree, and the genealogy continues the bloodline!"

As his body twisted, the soil that had been sprinkled on the ground began to wriggle and twist, transforming into dozens of half-human-high candles.

The candles took shape, and the believer holding the bowl waved his hand, and a dark yellow flame rose instantly. The candles surrounded the village as if they had consciousness, with one candle every few dozen meters.

The candlelight flickered, dispelling the fog. The flames extended to the sky, gathered above the village, and surrounded the entire village.

"The time has come."

"The sacrifice begins."

"No, not a sacrifice, but a deduction. Watch your words, calendar officer."

"...Just assume you're right."

"These poor souls should hurry and pray to their Lord now," the Bowl-Bearing Cultist chuckled sarcastically. "After all... by the time the deduction is complete, their Lord won't be able to hear them."

　Just two chapters today.

　　PS: I saw a cannon today that had a bunch of jellyfish flying into the sky. It was so pretty! Can anyone tell me what it's called?
　　
　
(End of this chapter)