The Scent of the Old Era

Late at night on Longevity Island, the Gray Fog was like cotton wadding soaked in cold water, clammy as it wrapped around Mi Yao and Chen Kong's collars, carrying the damp reek of rotting leaves as they raced through the woods.

Dead branches and leaves cracked sharply beneath their feet, mingling with the rousing BGM in Mi Yao's headphones and the howls of the Rotten Vine Corpses behind them, weaving an absurd yet nerve-racking rhythm.

Chen Kong stayed close behind the leading Mi Yao. The wound on his back, where a Rotten Vine Corpse had struck him, was repeatedly tugged by the motion of running. Every breath brought needle-prick pain, while cold sweat slid down his jaw and dripped onto the mud-stained back of his hand.

At the same time, the bandages on his arm, freshly wrapped not long ago, had long been soaked through with sweat. They clung to his skin, cold and itchy, letting Chen Kong clearly feel the faint heat beneath them—a sign that the poison had yet to clear.

"Turn left! Fifty meters ahead, there's a broken wall that can block their line of sight for now."

Who knew how long they had been running when Mi Yao suddenly braked and turned around, tapping a finger through the air.

As the anime's camera switched to Mi Yao's perspective, a pixel-styled red arrow appeared conspicuously in the open space before him.

Like a map guide in a game, it continually pointed Mi Yao toward the most suitable escape route.

With a clear direction and destination, Mi Yao and Chen Kong accelerated at the same time, charging out of an impenetrable thicket.

Thorny branches scraped across Chen Kong's sleeve with a rustle, exposing the pale green skin beneath. The sharp sting made him grunt, but he did not