Founder’s enemy

"Oi, Peng, is that...?" Gui Bingwen asked, his voice trembling and his eyes wide with disbelief.

"Yes, it definitely looks like the ghost worms described in the sect founder's notes," Peng said grimly. "The same worms tied to the person he was fleeing from when he ended up in the Green Fog Region."

Peng took a deep breath and continued, his voice lowering as if the very words might summon something terrible.

"That must mean Dong Yanlin is from the same organization as that person. According to the founder, ghost worms are so rare and eerie that few cultivators dare to use them. Only one organization is known to have mastered their horrifying ability to parasitize victims into walking corpses—the Scarlet Blood Ghost Hands Syndicate."

The weight of Peng's words sank heavily into the air, explaining the aghast looks on their faces. The founder of the Green Fog Swamp Sect once fought one of the syndicate's members over a treasure in the mysterious realm where he obtained the Tupelo Tree.

Despite being in a higher cultivation realm than his opponent, the founder nearly lost his life to those worms. The member of the Scarlet Blood Ghost Hands used them in conjunction with a strange symbiotic cultivation technique that siphoned energy from the founder into himself. What should have been a decisive victory became a drawn-out battle of attrition—and one the founder couldn't win.

In the end, he had no choice but to flee. The syndicate member pursued him relentlessly, forcing him to escape into the Green Fog Region, despite the region's countless dangers. For years after that, the founder was neither chased nor spotted again. It was as though his pursuer had vanished.

The founder speculated that the member may have succumbed to his injuries—or fallen victim to one of the swamp's countless beasts. But it always seemed more like wishful thinking than certainty. That lingering doubt kept the founder on edge for decades, pushing him to uncover the attacker's true identity. What he found confirmed his worst fears: the attacker was indeed a member of the Scarlet Blood Ghost Hands Syndicate.

This revelation was the very reason the founder never dared leave the Green Fog Region. Despite its dangers, the region offered a semblance of protection compared to the certain doom that awaited him beyond its borders.

"The power disparity between their organization and ours is... insurmountable," Peng Zhen said, his expression growing increasingly grim and pale. "A mere snort from them could reduce our entire sect to dust."

Peng's voice trembled slightly as he continued. "If Dong Yanlin really is connected to that syndicate, then we're all in grave danger. I can only hope that he was acting on his own, pursuing his personal interests, and not working under their orders. If the syndicate is truly involved, then..."

He paused, letting out a bitter laugh. "Then I'm afraid all our efforts will have been for nothing."

Dong Yanlin being a core formation expert already made the situation precarious. But if the Scarlet Blood Ghost Hands Syndicate was involved, it wasn't just difficult—it was a certainty that their sect's days were numbered, even with the potential intervention of the Order.

The Green Fog Region's seclusion and environment made it an ideal place to hide, but it also meant the Order's presence was virtually nonexistent since the place was more spirit beasts than cultivators.

"I'm sorry for dragging you into this, Gui," said Peng Zhen, his tone heavy with remorse.

"There's no need for that, Peng. I knew what I was getting into," Gui Bingwen replied firmly. "This isn't what we expected, but even knowing what we know now, I would still have jumped into this quagmire. We've known each other for a long time—you, me, Cheng Yuan, Hu Qiu, and Kang Mei.

What life-and-death hurdles haven't we faced together? It's just a pity Kang Mei never got to live this far. She was quite the talent."

Gui Bingwen's voice softened, tinged with nostalgia. "The previous sect master was lucky to have three disciples of exceptional talent. You, Cheng Yuan, and Kang Mei made the rest of us look bad. If only she were alive, the three of you would have pushed the sect to greater heights. It would have only been a matter of time before we were promoted to a rank-three sect.

But as things stand, we may very well meet her again soon—along with the rest of the Green Fog Swamp Sect—if the Scarlet Blood Ghost Hands set their sights on us.

It's been an honor, Peng. I just wish we could have seen what the sect would become, especially with Cheng Yuan's plans finally starting to bear fruit, despite those venomous parasites trying to sabotage him."

He threw a glance at the spot where Hao Ye and Jia Tingfeng had been devoured, his expression darkening.

"It's been an honor, too, old friend," Peng Zhen said after a pause. "I don't know what will happen to Cheng Yuan after this, but he's resourceful. I'm sure he'll find a way out for the sect. Though, after all this, he might end up looking like our friend Dong Yanlin over there from all the stress."

The two exchanged a serious look, then burst into laughter.

"He'll have Wen Chang's milk to refresh him, at least," Gui Bingwen added cheekily.

"Don't let him hear you say that. That senior brother of mine loves his face a little too much," Peng Zhen said, shaking his head with a faint smile. Then, his expression hardened.

"Well, Gui, we may be in over our heads, but I have no intention of dying so easily. We still have Kang Mei's debt to settle. That black cosmos caiman has been rapidly improving its influence and strength. We can't let Cheng Yuan shoulder that vengeance alone."

"I'd rather not die, if it can be helped," Gui Bingwen replied with a dry chuckle. "Cheng Yuan promised me a great retirement plan. I've got a hundred years left to lie in comfort, and I'd rather not let some Scarlet Blood member or leeching bull demon cut that short."

"That green swallow earlier looked like someone's cultivation spell. Based on Dong Yanlin's reaction—even choosing to flee after just a single clash—the owner must be pretty powerful to elicit that kind of response from him," Peng Zhen said, a trace of excitement in his voice.

"Plus, I saw two more birds charging in when Tupelo unleashed itself. Just one was enough to force his vicious technique into a draw—what if two more were added to the mix? We might just survive this. I've always been lucky, ever since I was a kid," he added, his tone carrying an unmistakable hint of pride.

"Luck? And yet you got poisoned while fishing for treasures. That's some luck all right," Gui Bingwen muttered under his breath, throwing a mocking look Peng Zhen's way. Peng Zhen could only stroke his beard in embarrassed silence.

The silhouette of Ao Yin shifted suddenly as the bone saber charged toward its faintly glowing, translucent form. The saber flew forward and aligned itself with its right index finger. In an instant, the bone saber transformed, merging seamlessly into a skeletal extension of that finger, as if it had always belonged there.

What was once a translucent digit turned into something horrifyingly real. A massive, grotesque finger, thick and red-black like coagulated blood, the size of a horse's leg, emerged.

Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen felt an overwhelming pressure descend upon them, making it difficult to breathe, even under the protective glow of the Tupelo Tree. The sensation was terrifying—they felt their insides simultaneously corroding and melting.

From just that single finger, they saw a horrifying illusion: a river of blood and skulls stretching endlessly, with a monstrous creature devouring the entire river in a single gulp.

The illusion slammed into their minds like a tidal wave. Gui Bingwen screamed as blood poured from his eyes, ears, and nose. His mental sea was under relentless attack, its limits quickly approaching. He knew that once it broke, he would lose himself entirely, becoming nothing more than a puppet or a hollow shell.

Peng Zhen wasn't faring much better, but there was still clarity in his bloodshot eyes. Gritting his teeth so hard that his gums bled, he fought desperately to hold on.

Just as they were about to succumb—resigned to this gruesome end after their earlier talk of survival—a sudden, calming sensation washed over them.

It felt like lying on smooth grass, the warmth of the sun on their skin, with a gentle breeze brushing past. The serene feeling started in their heads and spread through their bodies, easing the pain and restoring their senses.

When they regained control of their bodies, they turned to one another, stunned. Both were now bathed in a soft, intertwining glow of green, orange, and red light.

They both bowed deeply toward the Tupelo Tree, which continued its desperate struggle against Ao Yin. The battle, however, was clearly tipping in Ao Yin's favor. The branch produced by the Tupelo Tree was gripped tightly by Ao Yin's massive, corrupted hand, the dark red liquid seeping from its living index finger corroding the branch like rust consuming metal.

Each drop of the liquid that touched the branch released a sinister sizzling sound, accompanied by red smoke. The branch's glow flickered with every sizzle, though its brightness never once dimmed, stubbornly resisting the decay.

Peng Zhen couldn't help but cast a hopeful glance toward the sky where the green swallow had vanished earlier.

If things continued as they were, the Tupelo Tree would lose. With its hibernation period fast approaching, many of its abilities were sealed, leaving no simple way to reverse its weakening state.

Now, it was forced to burn through its reserve energy, relying only on the few abilities that remained active. One was Purification, the technique that had saved Peng Zhen moments earlier, and the other was Spectral Judgment, manifesting as the branch of light currently fending off Ao Yin.

As Peng Zhen's gaze lingered above, the clouds began to shift and gather, their hue deepening into an ominous dark gray. Suddenly, two green lights shot into the sky, streaking toward the forming clouds before merging with a third green light.

The lights, no larger than a clenched fist, started rotating counterclockwise within the dense clouds. At first, Peng Zhen could track their movements, but they soon accelerated beyond perception, blurring into a single, unified glow.

The dark clouds seemed to respond to the motion, ripple-like waves spreading across their surface before they, too, began rotating in harmony with the green light. The synchronization continued until the entire cloud mass was spinning in rhythm, now completely under the influence of the light.

Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen frowned, struggling to understand what was unfolding before their eyes.

Their expressions quickly shifted into shock as the dark clouds abruptly turned a radiant green, their new hue accompanied by piercing bird chirps. The sound echoed like a thunderclap, reverberating through the heavens with an overwhelming intensity that made their hearts pound.

...

Miles away, atop a secluded peak shrouded in an impenetrable white fog, the silence was absolute, broken only by the occasional whisper of the wind. However, that tranquility was suddenly disturbed by a distant bird chirp, its sound faint yet piercing as it reached the hidden peak.

The atmosphere shifted as the thick fog began to swirl and contract, drawing inward toward the peak like water rushing into a drain. Within seconds, the dense white veil had vanished, revealing a large courtyard nestled in the mountain's embrace. At its center stood a three-story building surrounded by a flourishing herb garden.

On the roof of the building sat a young man in a lotus position, his long white hair cascading down like a waterfall of snow. In his lap rested a sword with a scabbard as pure and immaculate as his hair.

"It seems the swallows have found them. That was fast," the young man muttered to himself, his voice calm yet laced with a trace of urgency. "From the sound of the chirp, they're in the northeast... likely outside the Green Fog Region by now."

"That's quite the distance. Even if I exert myself fully, it'll take at least twenty minutes to reach them." He sighed, shaking his head. "If only Ellie were with me—she would cover the distance in no time. But the swamp is no place for her to fly comfortably, given her size," he thought, his mind briefly flashing to the cloud swallowing kite.

His gaze shifted thoughtfully before he added, "The Mirage Dragonfly... Yes, she could do. Even at the early stages of the middle phase of Core Formation, it's fast enough to cross the distance quickly—especially if I feed it some Primal Lotus Dew."

With his decision made, Feng Xin rose gracefully to his feet, the hem of his white robes fluttering in the breeze as he leapt off the sect master's building. His figure was a blur as he descended toward Peng Zhen's peak, where the Mirage Dragonfly kept watch over the unconscious members of the Green Fog Swamp Sect.