The chanting

Spiritual energy?

Yang Yong froze.

They had found spiritual energy already?

Didn't that mean this new world wasn't a Spiritless World?

Then wouldn't those cultivation techniques he had learned inside the Thousand-Hammer, Hundred-Refinement Furnace's space finally come in handy?

He could finally shed the constitution of an ordinary person completely!

Unlike the excited Yang Yong, everyone else surveyed their surroundings warily, their eyes filled with wonder.

Behind them, an invisible barrier seemed to be holding back the mist that had followed them like a shadow.

Strangely, the churning white fog seemed to have struck a sheet of transparent glass, unable to penetrate it in the slightest.

This new world presented a scene of bright spring sunshine, its rays falling warmly on their bodies, yet everyone inexplicably felt a chill creep up from the soles of their feet, as though a pair of cold eyes were watching them from somewhere unseen.

"Everyone, rest where you are!"

Captain Cao Xianming gave the order in a low voice, his tone brooking no argument.

The Transcendents all knew perfectly well that Old Cao wanted to use this opportunity to gather information and build a data model of the new world. No one objected.

As for the ordinary people's opinions?

Heh. They had no say.

Once instructed to stay, the Transcendents immediately went about their own business.

Wang Ying held her saber in both hands, its blade angled toward the ground. Her sharp eyes scanned their surroundings for the slightest movement, ready to strike at any moment.

Zheng Xiaofeng stood guard beside Cao Xianming with a wary expression, his burly body ramrod straight, every bit a human meat shield.

Only Yang Yong remained lost in his own thoughts, his mind wandering far away.

He tried communicating with the Thousand-Hammer, Hundred-Refinement Furnace in his mind, but as always, the lousy furnace gave no response whatsoever.

Fortunately, though, he still had the cultivation techniques.

Yang Yong took out the cultivation manual he had written down from memory and read it over and over.

After all, reading something a hundred times would reveal its meaning. Perhaps enlightenment would strike the next second.

Of course, all this applied only to the Transcendents.

Under the direction of Convoy Supervisor Lao Zhang, the survivors deftly pitched tents, gathered firewood, and set up stoves. Everything proceeded in an orderly fashion, but every face bore a trace of fear that was difficult to conceal.

Even when the aroma of food began wafting through the air, Yang Yong still hadn't gleaned anything from the manual.

Meanwhile, Cao Xianming remained bent over his notebook, writing and sketching, his brows tightly furrowed as though he had discovered some thorny problem.

After eating, the three combat-oriented Transcendents settled on their night-watch arrangements: Wang Ying would take the first half of the night, and Zheng Xiaofeng and Yang Yong would take the second.

The reason for this arrangement was simple.

Zheng Xiaofeng, that big oaf, easily got carried away in a fight. Once bloodlust took over, he threw caution to the wind, so someone had to keep an eye on him.

Night fell, and its first half passed peacefully, with only insect calls and the sound of wind echoing through the woods.

When Yang Yong and Zheng Xiaofeng took over the watch, the first part of their shift remained uneventful too.

Relying on his strong constitution, Zheng Xiaofeng fought to stay alert, but his eyelids kept drooping, and he nodded off from time to time.

Yang Yong forced himself to stay awake, staring at the faintly glimmering lake in the distance, a persistent unease in his heart.

Dawn was approaching when a faint, intermittent sound suddenly drifted over from the lake.

"Hm?"

Instantly alert, Yang Yong gave the drowsy Zheng Xiaofeng beside him a hard shove.

The two held their breath and listened intently.

The sound came in fits and starts, like someone chanting softly, yet also like the creaking of an old stone mill. It was indescribably grating, but carried a strangely enticing quality as it burrowed into their ears, making their scalps prickle.

They exchanged a glance, each seeing deep bewilderment and a trace of fear in the other's eyes.

What the hell was that thing?

Hearing something so creepy in the middle of the night was enough to scare them out of their wits!

As the two wavered in alarm and uncertainty, about to move closer for a look, an urgent shout suddenly shattered the quiet night: "Block your ears! Don't listen!"

It was Cao Xianming's voice!

No one had ever heard such panic and urgency in his tone. Unfortunately, he was still a moment too late.

Several of the most deeply asleep survivors had already succumbed.

Yang Yong and Zheng Xiaofeng dared not delay. They hastily tore strips from their clothes and stuffed their ears tightly.

With the piercing chanting shut out, the two finally breathed a sigh of relief.

But when they lowered their heads and saw the scene before them clearly, a chill shot from the soles of their feet to the tops of their heads.

The ordinary people in the convoy were emerging from their tents one after another like walking corpses.

Their eyes were vacant, their faces expressionless, their pupils utterly unfocused. Dragging their feet, they swayed their way toward the lake.

They looked exactly like the poor souls in old people's stories whose spirits had been lured away by Ghosts!

"Quick! Knock them out!"

A trace of despair crept into Cao Xianming's voice. Shouting, he charged forward first and tackled the nearest survivor to the ground.

Only then did Yang Yong snap out of his daze. He hurriedly patted Zheng Xiaofeng beside him, and the two rushed toward those "walking corpses," one behind the other.

Yang Yong aimed at the back of a survivor's neck and delivered a vicious chop with the edge of his hand.

Strangely, however, the man seemed unable to feel pain. His steps never faltered as he continued shuffling toward the lake.

Zheng Xiaofeng reacted quickly, slamming his burly body into him like a small mountain crashing down. Only then did the man topple over stiffly.

Just then, out of the corners of their eyes, the two noticed that the faintly visible "Fog Gate" in the distant sky was actually dimming at a speed visible to the naked eye.

At some point, a thick layer of mist had risen over the lake. Within it, a blurry human figure seemed to be facing their direction.

Their heads grew muddled, and their vision began to blur.

The figure in the mist gradually became a little clearer. It seemed to have an exceptionally handsome human face, yet thick mist shrouded it, leaving only a pair of narrow eyes visible, gazing eerily at them.

"Don't move..."

A gentle voice seemed to sound directly inside their minds.

Yang Yong stiffened all over. He clearly saw what seemed to be an eerie smile curling the lips of that "person" in the mist. It actually looked like an immortal from legend.

Yet the coldness and greed in those eyes made him feel as though he had plunged into an ice cellar.

"It's an Eerie!"

Cao Xianming's furious roar rang out again. With Lao Zhang and Xiao Ma, he was carrying two unconscious survivors back, the veins bulging on his forehead. "Tie them up, now! They're being controlled!"

Before his words had faded, something even more horrifying happened.

The survivors they had knocked unconscious slowly began rising from the ground, one after another!

Their eyes remained closed, but their bodies were like puppets controlled by invisible threads, struggling to continue toward the lake.

Zheng Xiaofeng roared and lunged forward, pinning down the last survivor with all his might. Yet the man's strength was astonishing: he actually dragged Zheng Xiaofeng's body forward, step by step.

Zheng Xiaofeng was a Sequence Transcendent!

Even he could barely hold the man down!