110: Chapter 11 Mysterious

After hearing Chen Zilong's words, a wave of suppressed whispers suddenly erupted all around, like countless tiny insects wriggling in the darkness.

The ancient scholar tree at the village entrance, which had grown for an unknown number of years, swayed gently in the night wind.

The withered yellow leaves rubbed against each other, making a rustling sound like whispering or some ominous omen.

Disciples gathered in groups of twos and threes, whispering to one another, their eyes filled with both doubt and a hint of unease.

Their silhouettes were stretched long under the hazy moonlight, interlacing like a swarm of moths trapped in a net.

"This fog... it's too eerie."

A young disciple spoke in a low voice, his tone carrying an unmistakable tremble.

The wind suddenly quickened, swirling the fallen leaves on the ground into the air before they fell back down limply.

The focus of everyone's discussion was nothing more than whether they should leave now.

However, almost everyone's thoughts were surprisingly unanimous.

No one was willing to rashly charge into that bizarre haze.

After all, the tragic scenes of those who had died mysteriously with their hearts gouged out were still fresh in their minds.

Someone still remembered the corpse found at the east end of the village; it had a large hole in its chest, and the internal organs were missing, yet a bizarre smile remained on its face.

No one wanted to repeat such a fate.

At that moment, disciples from various sects began to gather at the village entrance.

Tiansha Sect, Moyan Valley, Qingyun Sect, Jinguang Temple, Haoran Academy, including several people from the Hehuan Sect and Xuantian Sect who were already at the village gate.

Basically, everyone who was supposed to come had arrived.

Lin Yue of the Qingyun Sect stepped forward slowly, the moonlight spilling onto her plain white dress as if draping her in a silver veil.

Her features were as beautiful as a painting, and her bright eyes remained as clear as water in the night.

"Senior brothers and sisters,"

Her voice was soft and gentle like jade, yet it carried an unquestionable firmness. "To leave now would be a failure of our duty as cultivators."

She lightly raised her hand, her sleeves fluttering in the wind, revealing a jade bracelet on her snowy wrist.

The jade bracelet glowed with a warm luster, complementing her cream-colored skin.

However, no matter how gently she tried to persuade them, in the end, only a few righteous disciples remained to guard the village.

Jin Mei of the Hehuan Sect now moved with graceful steps, her crimson-purple skirt fluttering slightly in the night wind like a demonic flower blooming in the dark.

She lightly adjusted her hair at the temples, her slender fingers brushing past her ears to tuck a strand of black hair behind them.

When she opened her crimson lips, the tiny mole at the corner of her mouth became faintly visible, adding a touch of charm.

"Do you all know that there is a hidden mystery within this fog?"

Her voice was soft enough to melt one's bones, yet it caused everyone present to unconsciously hold their breath and listen.

She recounted the strange events in detail; every word seemed carefully crafted, neither too exaggerated nor too subtle, perfectly piquing curiosity and fear.

However, no matter how detailed her description of such bizarre events was, those present remained skeptical.

Some frowned in thought, some showed disdain, and some even quietly backed away, seemingly wanting to distance themselves from this place of trouble.

Sure enough, half an hour later, reality gave everyone a resounding slap in the face.

Several young and aggressive disciples from the Tiansha Sect didn't believe in the evil and repeatedly tried to break through the haze with their flying swords.

The moment the sword light flared, their figures flickered in the fog, like stones thrown into water, stirring up ripples.

But no matter how they channeled their spiritual power, they would always mysteriously return to the starting point.

The first time, they traveled through the fog for the time it takes an incense stick to burn, only to find themselves still at the village entrance when they emerged.

The second time, they changed directions, but the result was the same.

The third time, they worked together to cast a spell, yet they still appeared in the same spot.

After three consecutive failures, these disciples finally gave up dejectedly.

Their faces were filled with confusion and frustration; some even began to doubt if there was a problem with their cultivation.

Only a disciple named Wu Qing refused to give up.

He was a cultivator at the late stage of the Golden Core Realm from the Tiansha Sect, and he had heard that he would receive a Nascent Soul formation reward upon returning to the sect this time.

At this moment, a flame of persistence burned in his eyes.

It was a thirst for power and a refusal to yield to the unknown.

Wu Qing sat cross-legged and took out a Mid-Grade Spirit Stone to begin regulating his breath.

The spirit stone glowed with a faint green light in his palm, and spiritual energy seeped into his meridians like threads.

The surrounding disciples watched in silence; some wanted to speak but hesitated, while others shook their heads and sighed.

In just the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, he had fully recovered.

The moment he opened his eyes, a flash of determination crossed them—the look of a gambler betting all his chips.

He rose on his sword once more, and his figure quickly vanished into that treacherous haze, like a drop of water merging into the sea.

Time passed bit by bit.

Half an hour, an hour, an hour and a half...

Chen Zilong suddenly felt that something was wrong.

According to previous experience, anyone who entered the haze would return within half an hour at most.

But this Wu Qing had been gone for nearly two hours without a trace.

As the night grew late, the moon hid behind the clouds at some point, and the surroundings became exceptionally dark.

Only a few lanterns at the village entrance swayed in the wind, casting restless, flickering shadows.

This discovery was like a drop of cold water falling into boiling oil, causing a commotion among the crowd.

Whispers gradually rose, and a thought sprouted in everyone's mind:

Could it be that he really made it out?

"Senior Brother Wu Qing... did he already get out?" a female disciple from the Tiansha Sect spoke up timidly.

Her slender fingers tightly gripped the hem of her clothes, and her voice trembled slightly, like a startled fawn.

These words were like lighting a fuse; thirteen Tiansha Sect disciples stood up in unison.

The moment the sword light flared, their faces were filled with hope and resolve.

Their Sword-riding figures sped toward the direction where Wu Qing had disappeared and were soon swallowed by the thick fog.

The sword light pierced the sky but quickly dimmed in the fog, as if swallowed by something invisible.

Only moments after they entered the thick fog, the people at the village entrance heard a series of blood-curdling screams piercing the air.

The fear contained in those screams made everyone shudder.

Those were not sounds humans should make; they were more like wails coming from the depths of hell.

The previously noisy field instantly fell into a dead silence.

Chen Zilong subconsciously clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white from the force.

Everyone's nerves were taut as they stared intently toward the haze.

An indescribable oppression permeated the air, as if something was watching them from the shadows.

The Tiansha Sect disciples who returned were all deathly pale, looking as if they had just crawled out of a grave.

The female disciples covered their faces and wept, tears streaming down; they didn't even notice their makeup was ruined.

The male disciples' eyes were wide, and their lips trembled uncontrollably, as if they had seen something extremely terrifying.

Chen Zilong stepped forward quickly and grabbed the sleeve of a Tiansha Sect male disciple:

"What happened?"

"Don't ask me! I don't know! I don't know!" The disciple violently shook off his hand, his eyes vacant, as he stumbled back into the village like a startled rabbit.

The rest of the Tiansha Sect disciples also fled in panic, looking as if a vengeful ghost was chasing them.

Someone even accidentally tripped and fell, only to scramble back up and continue running.

Chen Zilong's brow furrowed. After a brief moment of contemplation, he decided to investigate personally.

Seeing this, disciples from other sects followed suit.

The group stepped cautiously into the haze.

The fog was thicker than imagined, almost making it impossible to see one's own hand.

A sweet, cloying scent filled the air, like rotting flowers mixed with the smell of rust.

After walking only a few yards, they were shocked into gasping by the sight before them.

Wu Qing's corpse was hung on a giant spider web.

The spider silk shimmered with a bizarre silver light, appearing and disappearing in the darkness.

His limbs were spread wide, forming a bizarre "star" shape.

His whole body was like a specimen pinned in the void.

Most horrifying of all, the bones in his entire body seemed to have been removed; he hung limply like a discarded piece of clothing.

The blood seeping from his seven orifices had dried and turned black, yet his face was frozen in an extremely discordant smile.

The corners of his mouth were turned up and his eyes were wide open, as if he were enjoying some ultimate pleasure.

That smile was too bright, too real, and instead sent shivers down one's spine.

Chen Zilong suppressed the thumping in his heart and noticed that Wu Qing's storage bag was still hanging intact at his waist.

This meant the killer was not motivated by money.

And on the spider web behind him, several shocking words were written in blood:

Go back, or die.

The blood was not yet completely dry, shimmering with a dark red luster in the darkness.

Every stroke was twisted and deformed, like the final struggle of a dying person.

This meant that the thing that wrote these words was likely watching them nearby.

A cold wind blew, the spider web swayed gently, and Wu Qing's limp corpse swayed with it.

His eyes seemed to still be watching something.

In those hollow eyes, there was neither pain nor fear.

Only a bone-chilling satisfaction.

It was as if, before he died, he had seen something extremely beautiful...

...