Mountain Venerable and Sea Immortal

The gray-white mist was so thick it was impossible to see anything more than three feet away; even faces were blurred into indistinct shadows. The mist was sticky and heavy like damp cotton, carrying a biting chill that blocked one's mouth and nose, filling one's breath with a stuffy, turbid air, mixed with a faint, almost imperceptible, fishy smell—not the blood of demonic beasts, but a cold aura laced with venom.

The forest remained deathly silent, devoid of insect chirps, animal roars, and even the sound of wind rustling through the leaves. Only the suppressed breathing of the group and the soft crunching of footsteps on the withered leaves remained, each sound amplified in the deathly silence, gripping the heart with a clenched grip.

The group's pace slowed considerably. Elder Fenglie stopped, his face grim and icy. He raised his hand and touched the patrol token, channeling his life force into it. The pale golden light attempted to penetrate the fog, but it was immediately swallowed up by the thick gray fog, making it impossible to detect even the slightest movement in the surroundings.

"This isn't mountain fog; it's a deliberate illusion created by someone!" Elder Minglang's voice was deep and solemn, carrying an unprecedented gravity. "Everyone, gather together immediately, hold hands, and don't separate. Quickly get through this treacherous path!"

Upon hearing this, everyone's expression changed, and they instinctively gathered together, their spiritual energy spontaneously circulating as they entered a state of alert.

Elder Hailan stood beside the crowd, his face subtly displaying a mixture of surprise and worry. He echoed in a deep voice, "Is this really true? The Ling Mountain Ancient Path has been peaceful for many years. How could such a man-made illusion suddenly arise? It's truly strange. Everyone, stay close to the elder and don't get separated from the group."

His tone was frank, his eyes peaceful, displaying the demeanor of an elder concerned for his fellow disciples. Yet, his fingertips, hidden in his sleeves, subtly manipulated the array within the mist with a barely perceptible wisp of sinister spiritual power. The thick fog churned more violently, converging layer upon layer like a living thing, continuously compressing the space around the group.

The unexpected happened in the next instant.

At the end of the line, an outer disciple suddenly lost his footing, as if he had stepped into an invisible trap. His body plummeted downwards. He cried out in alarm and reached out to grab his fellow disciple, but the moment his fingertips touched him, he was violently pulled away by a cold and ruthless force.

All anyone saw was a pitch-black phantom suddenly emerge from the fog, moving so fast that it was just a blur. It tightly wrapped around the disciple's wrist and dragged him straight into the depths of the thick fog before anyone could react.

There were no sounds of fighting, no clashes of spiritual energy in resistance, only a scream that abruptly ended and completely dissipated into the mist, leaving not even a trace of spiritual energy fluctuation or a drop of blood, as if that person had never existed.

The entire place was deathly silent. Everyone froze in place, their hair standing on end, and a bone-chilling coldness shot from the soles of their feet to the top of their heads.

Those were living, breathing people, who were silently abducted by a phantom in the mist right before everyone's eyes, without even a chance to resist!

"Who's lurking in the shadows!" Elder Minglang roared, his spiritual power erupting and golden light transforming into a fierce wave that swept towards the mist. However, the swirling mist forcefully dissipated the spiritual power attack, and the depths of the dense forest remained deathly silent, without any response or a single figure in sight.

Lin Yan and his group instantly formed a closed circle, tightly protecting Yi Azhu in the center. The five of them stood back to back, their sharp eyes scanning the swirling fog around them, their nerves taut to the extreme.

Chen Dagang gripped the heavy club tightly with both hands, veins bulging on his arms, staring intently at the movement in the fog. He growled in a low voice, "What was that just now? It was too fast, I didn't even see its shadow!"

Yunxi gripped the hilt of her sword tightly, her knuckles turning white. A cold sword intent was poised to be unleashed, yet she dared not draw it easily. Her brows furrowed: "The mist can block divine sense and dissipate spiritual power. Those lurking in the shadows use this mist barrier to commit their crimes, specifically targeting those who are alone."

Ye Qing closed his eyes and focused his mind, straining his wood-elemental spiritual power to probe the ground, but he only felt that the underground vines were tightly bound by a sinister force, frantically blocking his senses. He suddenly opened his eyes, his voice cold and deep: "We're surrounded, there are ambushes everywhere."

Yi Azhu's face was ashen, her innate water spirit body's senses were enveloped by countless intense malice, and her whole body trembled slightly, but she still forced herself to speak: "Brother, they are slowly approaching, waiting for us to scatter..."

Lin Yan's heart sank, his fingers gripping the peach wood sword tightly. Pure water spiritual energy flowed slowly from his fingertips, protecting his body. His cold gaze swept over the swirling mist around him, his mind now clear.

There was no open fighting, no direct confrontation. Those in the shadows, taking advantage of the fog, used the most covert and ruthless methods to hunt down their fellow disciples one by one, creating the illusion of accidental disappearances. Even if they were to investigate afterward, there would be no evidence and no way to take action.

The mastermind behind all of this mingled among the crowd, remaining silent and observing with detached indifference.

Elder Minglang's face was ashen as he sternly ordered, "Full speed ahead! No stopping! I'll lead the way, everyone else follow closely behind!"

After saying that, his body shone with spiritual light, and he used the mountain patrol token to clear a path, forcefully breaking through the fog.

The group dared not delay and moved forward closely together, but the fog grew thicker and thicker, and the shadowy figures in the darkness became more and more rampant.

A dark shadow would occasionally flash through the fog, sometimes touching the branches and leaves, making a soft rustling sound, causing everyone to turn around frequently and become flustered; sometimes it would leave a dark claw mark on the ground, which would be covered by the fog in an instant; and there were also cold, chilling sounds of air being torn apart, shooting out from the fog from time to time, grazing past everyone's ears, creating a dangerous situation.

Elder Hailan mingled among the crowd, his steps steady and unobtrusive as he adjusted the direction of the procession, gradually leading everyone to the narrowest and most treacherous pass of the ancient road.

A sinister smile lurked in his eyes; the moment to close the net was drawing ever closer.

Lin Yan tightly protected everyone, not daring to make the slightest mistake in his steps, his mind constantly on edge, staring intently at the surrounding misty shadows.

He knew that this trip to the Spirit Herb Valley of Mount Moling was no longer a simple purchase of spiritual herbs, but a perilous and deadly trap.

In the thick fog, shadowy figures lurk, and murderous intent follows like a shadow. Every step forward is treading on a knife's edge.