Chapter 185 - The False Seniors and the Stolen Mist
Outpost No. 1 was worse than Outpost No. 2.
No one saw the full reason at first.
The red mist ahead was too thick. It crawled through the broken road in wet layers, clinging to shattered stones and collapsed walls like diluted blood. The ruins of the outpost were only vague shapes inside it.
The place where the Boundary Pillar should have stood could not be seen clearly at all.
But everyone felt it. The lotus barrier around the procession hissed the moment they stopped.
Bai Zhi’s expression changed.
"Take another lotus pill."
No one hesitated.
Immaculate Lotus-Heart Pills were swallowed one after another. The soft lotus fragrance spread through the group, reinforcing their spiritual defenses.
Even so, the barrier continued to hiss. The mist pressed from outside like something patient testing the thickness of glass.
Su Bai looked down at his robe.
The edge of his sleeve had begun to smoke faintly.
His expression became solemn.
Without a word, he took out one roll of corrosion-resistant cloth and wrapped it around his body.
Su Bai then looked into the ruined outpost.
His spiritual sense moved forward.
A moment later, he said, "There are flesh fragments inside."
The procession stiffened.
Zhuge Jing’s fan shifted slightly.
"How many?"
"Several."
The word made the air grow colder.
One flesh fragment had almost broken Outpost No. 3. One flesh fragment had empowered Outpost No. 2. Now there were several inside Outpost No. 1.
Before anyone could fully process that, Su Bai added, "More are being brought from deeper inside."
Several cultivators turned toward the red mist beyond the outpost.
They could not see anything.
That made it worse.
Tang Ziyan stepped forward slightly. Her spiritual sense slipped into the red haze with careful precision.
For one breath, her perception moved farther than the others.
A breath later, she frowned and withdrew.
"The deeper mist is resisting."
Zhuge Jing looked at her. "Attacking?"
"No." Tang Ziyan’s gaze became colder. "Like it hates what I am, but does not want to touch me carelessly."
The group fell silent.
That answer was not comforting.
Bai Zhi looked at the ruined outpost, then at the cultivators behind her. Many could not see past the collapsed gate. Some had tried to send out spiritual sense and immediately suffered headaches.
If they fought like this, they would be blind while the enemy saw everything.
She raised both hands. White lotus light bloomed beneath her feet. Petals rose into the air like translucent lamps, unfolding layer after layer. Their glow spread forward.
"Glass-Lotus Clear Sight."
The spell opened.
A large portion of Bai Zhi’s Qi vanished in an instant. Her face paled, and Mu Qing immediately stepped closer. Bai Zhi remained standing, but the strain was obvious.
The effect was worth it.
For the first time, everyone saw what Su Bai had sensed.
Several flesh fragments lay inside the ruined outpost. They were placed around the former Boundary Pillar site.
Farther back, through the thinned mist, human figures walked along the deeper road. Several of them carried another flesh fragment covered in blood-stained cloth.
The moment the procession saw them, the human figures also saw the procession.
Weapons rose at once.
The enemies did not attack immediately.
One of the human figures even smiled.
He wore blue robes stained by red mist. His face was pale, his eyes dark red, and his expression carried a strange familiarity, as if he were looking at juniors during a sect gathering.
"Curious," the figure said. "It seems my sect mates are here too. Have you come to join the fun?"
A young cultivator from a smaller sect suddenly made a strangled sound.
"That is... Senior Uncle Ren."
Everyone glanced at him.
His face had turned white. "I saw his portrait in our ancestral hall. He was a disciple of our Grand Elder. He entered the mystic realm more than a hundred years ago and never came out."
The blue-robed figure smiled wider.
"Grand Elder? Is that old thing still alive?"
The young cultivator trembled.
Another figure stepped from the mist. It’s a woman holding a cracked sword. Someone from a sword pavilion recognized her. A monk-like figure with prayer beads around his wrist made a disciple from a monastery step back.
More names surfaced from the procession, each one belonging to someone who had disappeared in Fallen Star Sanctuary long ago.
"Come," the blue-robed figure said softly. "Why struggle outside? The sects only use you. Enter, bow, fight, die, and have your names carved on a tablet."
The sword-bearing woman laughed.
"At least here, no one pretends righteousness before sending you to your death."
The words slipped through the air with a faint sweetness.
Several cultivators’ eyes blurred.
The temptation did not strike like poison. It crept in through regret, fear, resentment, and exhaustion.
A few injured disciples swayed. One young cultivator lowered his weapon by half an inch before the lotus pill in his body warmed and forced clarity back into his eyes.
Su Bai’s voice cut through the mist.
"Do not listen."
The group jolted.
"They are not your seniors," Su Bai said. "Remember the false bodies. Remember the stolen soul fragments. Remember City Lord Yue Cangyu’s warning. The Sanctuary can show familiar faces, familiar voices, and familiar memories. That does not mean the thing standing there is the person you remember."
Several cultivators shivered awake.
The young cultivator who had called out Senior Uncle Ren bit his tongue until blood filled his mouth. His eyes cleared, and shame appeared on his face.
The blue-robed figure tilted his head.
"Boo. This junior is no fun at all."
Another figure raised one hand. Red-black miasma curled between its fingers.
"If they will not come willingly, convert them."
The word made the procession’s scalp tighten.
Weapons rose fully.
Su Bai watched the human figures carefully.
"They may not be Soul-Bloom Returnees," he said.
Zhuge Jing glanced at him.
Su Bai continued, "Their sense of identity is clearer. Their words are smoother. Their memories are less broken. Treat them like false bodies, but stronger."
Zhuge Jing nodded. His fan opened.
"Do not answer them. Do not call them senior. Do not approach alone. Shield line, hold the front. Formation cultivators, anchor our sight range around Sister Bai’s lotus light. Sister Tang, pressure the right side. Sister Ji, freeze the ground before the gate."
The procession moved.
Outpost No. 1 answered with violence.
Miasma beasts rushed out from collapsed halls and broken alleys. Their bodies were denser than the beasts at Outpost No. 2, with bone plates across their backs and human-like fingers fused into their shoulders.
Behind them, the human figures stepped forward using familiar techniques from familiar sects.
That was what made them frightening.
The forms were correct. The rhythm was correct. The habits were correct. But there was no intent.
Their techniques were hollow shells filled with red mist.
Hollow did not mean weak.
Every time they spent power, the miasma around Outpost No. 1 flowed back into them. They did not rely on Qi. They borrowed the red haze itself. Their attacks continued without pause, and their bodies repaired small injuries as long as the flesh fragments pulsed behind them.
A shield cultivator blocked three strikes and was forced back several steps.
"They are stronger than the ones before!"
Zhuge Jing’s fan snapped.
"Not stronger. Better supplied. Do not fight as if they can tire."
The correction helped, but the situation remained bad.
Meanwhile, Su Bai could not steal the flesh fragments immediately.
The enemies had learned.
Several powerful false bodies guarded each fragment. Their eyes stayed on him. Whenever his body shifted, they shifted too. Whenever his spiritual energy moved, the flesh fragments pulsed in warning.
At Outpost No. 2, he had taken the fragment before the battlefield formed.
Here, the battlefield had formed around the fragments.
Su Bai’s gaze lowered slightly.
"This is troublesome."
The cultivators nearest him heard it and grew tense.
If Brother Su called something troublesome, it was either dangerous or bad for his robes.
Probably both.
Zhuge Jing’s orders continued without pause.
"Left side, retreat half a step. Center shields, brace. Brother Han, disrupt hands, not heads. Threads, bind the legs. Sister Lin, mechanisms to the broken ridge. Do not let the carriers bring that tray closer."
The group followed.
Ji Ruyue’s frost sealed the ground before the gate. Tang Ziyan’s poison pressed against the right side, forcing the mist there to curl away slightly. Qin Baoshan held the center. Han Yuelin struck wrists and elbows instead of vital points. Chen Feng cut through hollow sword forms with a grim expression.
But the enemy advantage remained.
The mist strengthened them. The flesh fragments replenished them.
The procession was fighting inside the enemy’s own breath.
Su Bai reached into storage.
The Petrified Calamity-Magnet appeared in his hand.
Until now, the procession had only seen part of its power. They had seen miasma bend toward him.
They had not seen him release the pull openly.
Su Bai held the stone-like magnet in his palm. The Petrified Calamity-Magnet awakened.
For one breath, nothing happened.
The next breath, the fluid red mist within twenty feet of Su Bai bent inward.
Red haze, blood-like vapor, scattered corruption, and the thin pulses leaking from nearby enemies all curved toward him at once. The lotus barrier around his area stopped hissing. The ground beneath his feet cleared. The air sharpened.
The procession paused.
The enemies paused.
Several flesh fragments pulsed slower.
Everyone turned toward Su Bai. The red mist poured into him.
His robe did not dissolve. More importantly, the corrosion-resistant cloth wrapped around his body held.
Su Bai looked down and checked it once.
His expression eased.
"Good."
The silence became strange.
Some cultivators stared as if a heavenly being had descended to swallow calamity.
Others stared as if they had just realized Brother Su’s first concern was whether the cloth survived.
Lin Weiyang’s eyes shone.
"It works."
Chen Feng whispered, "Are we talking about the cloth or him?"
Lin Weiyang did not look away.
"Yes."
The blue-robed false figure’s smile faded.
Without the surrounding mist constantly feeding it, its movement became less smooth.
Other false bodies also slowed. Their techniques were still dangerous, but the endless replenishment had weakened.
Zhuge Jing’s eyes flashed.
"Now."
His fan cut downward.
"Advance within Brother Su’s clear zone. Shield line forward. Swords, cut limbs. Threads, bind. Do not chase beyond twenty feet unless ordered."
The procession moved again.
This time, the rhythm changed.
Within the twenty-foot clear zone around Su Bai, the enemy advantage collapsed.
False bodies that had seemed tireless suddenly had to rely on their own unstable structures.
Miasma beasts lost the constant reinforcement hardening their bodies.
The flesh fragments pulsed sluggishly whenever Su Bai stepped closer, as if the air itself had betrayed them.
Qin Baoshan drove his shield into a beast’s chest and forced it into Ji Ruyue’s frost.
Tang Ziyan’s poison struck a false body’s leg. Without enough miasma to replenish it, the leg blackened and cracked.
Han Yuelin tapped his sword in a row. Three miasma beasts fell.
Chen Feng cut through a hollow sword form and nearly severed the arm behind it.
The cultivators’ eyes brightened.
The answer was not stronger attacks.
It was removing the mist that made the enemies endless.
Su Bai stood at the center of the clearing, wrapped in corrosion-resistant cloth, holding the Petrified Calamity-Magnet above his head as red mist poured into him.
The new pressure entered his Dantian and Qi reservoirs like heavy mud mixed with old resentment.