Two days later.
Lin Chen left the Rotting Bone Marsh, and a strange landscape appeared before him.
Two low mountains stood on either side of a narrow valley entrance. Gray mist completely concealed the valley within.
Five or six figures had already stopped outside the entrance.
They stood apart, all gazing at the eerie gray mist ahead. None dared enter rashly—or rather, some had already tried and failed.
Lin Chen's arrival put them all on guard.
"Another one."
A middle-aged martial artist in green robes, holding a Compass, muttered under his breath. His cultivation at the Profound Martial Fifth Layer was respectable here, but he was helpless against the gray mist.
As Lin Chen approached the valley, he immediately sensed an invisible force permeating the area.
The mist seemed to block spiritual perception. His senses extended only a few yards into it before vanishing like a clay ox sinking into the sea, returning nothing but a chaotic blank.
"Fellow Daoist Lin, are you planning to enter the valley?"
The martial artist with the Compass spoke up when he saw Lin Chen studying the mist.
Lin Chen glanced at him and gave a slight nod in reply.
"A word of advice: don't rush in."
"This mist is exceedingly strange. Several of us entered one after another, only to lose our way when a cold aura invaded our bodies. We grew dazed, our True Essence turned unstable, and it was as though ghosts had led us round and round. It took us an entire day to get out."
The man offered the warning in good faith.
Another cultivator, a woman, frowned. "I tried using Wind Path Martial Arts to disperse it, but the mist seemed to have taken root. The more I blew, the thicker it became."
"Oh? Then this mist really