The morning began with strange wind.
Not cold.
Not biting.
But low. Like breath trapped between mountains, like the hum of an empty drum.
Luo Feng stood at the outer edge of Dawnmist Peak, overlooking the narrow trails that led down into the foothills. In the distance, below a hazy ridge, thin smoke curled upward from a rural village—barely visible through the rolling fog.
Behind him, the disciples gathered, geared and dressed in field robes. The pale blue Dawnmist insignia shimmered on their chests—not the official Sect symbol, but Luo Feng's own, sewn by hand.
"I thought we weren't allowed outside Sect borders," Bai said, tightening her bracers.
"You're not," Luo Feng replied. "Unless I say otherwise."
A-Yan grinned. "That's our loophole."
"Technically," Wushen muttered, "we're still in the outer influence range."
Tianya already had her blade strapped to her back. "There's a rogue beast tide?"
"Not yet," Luo Feng said. "But the signs are there. And that village—Qinli—is defenseless. No guards, no formation shield. If it collapses, it won't make headlines."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"That's why you're going."
They blinked.
"…Wait," A-Yan said, "we're going. You're not?"
Luo Feng nodded. "This is your first unsupervised deployment. There's no stronger enemy than chaos and indecision. You'll arrive, assess, and secure. If there's a beast tide, stop it. If there's something stranger—adapt."
Yiran stepped forward. "Will we be monitored?"
Luo Feng gave her a rare smile.
"Always."
Ding! Mission Assigned: "Silent Watch – Protect Qinli"Mission Type: Team DeploymentRestrictions: Mentor may not directly intervene unless disciple lives are in critical danger.Success Conditions: Village must remain intact. Civilian casualties under 5%.Optional Objective: Identify the source of anomalous fog.
They departed mid-morning, five shadows trailing across a rising mist, the sky above dimming behind grey clouds.
As they disappeared down the stone trail, Luo Feng whispered to himself,
"Let's see if I've raised cultivators—or just sword arms."
Qinli Village
It wasn't large—just over a hundred people, two grain storage towers, one aging formation stone, and a central well that doubled as a meeting space.
The air was dense with moisture. The fog hung low—unnaturally so. It clung to rooftops like a veil, thickest at the forest edge.
When the disciples arrived, the villagers were already gathering, drawn by the sudden appearance of strangers with blades and spirit pressure.
An old man limped forward, leaning on a walking stick of carved pine.
"Cultivators?" he asked, squinting. "Not from the main Sect?"
"We're from Dawnmist Peak," Yiran said, stepping forward calmly.
The man frowned. "Never heard of it."
"You have now," A-Yan grinned.
Bai stepped in. "We're here about the fog. And the missing livestock."
That got everyone's attention.
"They've been vanishing for days," the old man said. "First the sheep. Then the dogs. Then…"
He swallowed.
"Then my granddaughter."
A hush fell over the courtyard.
Wushen tensed beside Tianya. "You didn't say anything sooner?"
"We did. Sent three runners. No one answered. Not the Sect. Not the city watch. It's like… someone didn't want to hear us."
That afternoon, the disciples split into pairs.
A-Yan and Bai patrolled the village perimeter, inspecting the only remaining spiritual barrier—a single half-buried formation stone that flickered with each pulse.
"It's cracked," Bai muttered. "Can't hold long under pressure."
"No pressure yet," A-Yan said, crouching beside it. "But it's too quiet."
They didn't notice the small shape watching them from the mist.
Wushen and Tianya took the northern treeline, where most disappearances had begun.
"This is wrong," Wushen said. "The wind's not moving. That shouldn't happen this close to a forest."
Tianya drew her dagger, the blade humming faintly.
"Can you hear anything?"
Wushen paused.
Then slowly knelt and pressed the flute to his lips.
He didn't play.
He listened.
And in the silence, something played back.
Three notes.
Slow.
Mourning.
Calling.
"Come closer…"
He jerked upright. "The fog is singing."
Tianya's grip tightened. "So sing back."
Ding! Environmental Effect Detected: "Whispering Veil – Beast-Type Mental Influence (Class D+)Sub-type: Sound-Borne Illusion FieldSource: ???Wushen's Hollow-Echo Physique resists 40% of field.Warning: Civilian minds highly vulnerable.
Yiran had climbed to the village's center tower.
She knelt beside a scared child and placed a hand over the girl's heart.
"She went to the forest," the girl whispered. "The fog called her name."
"Did you hear it too?"
The child nodded.
Yiran looked out over the village—then to the forest where her teammates now vanished one by one into the grey.
She didn't hesitate.
She stood and jumped from the tower's roof, light as a whisper.
The forest was alive.
Not with birds.
Not with beasts.
With sound.
Low, strange echoes that didn't match the steps they came from. Footsteps that arrived a beat too late. Breaths that weren't their own. Shouts swallowed before they left mouths.
Wushen staggered, clutching his flute.
"It's mimicking us…"
Tianya flicked a dagger—only to see it vanish into fog like it had been devoured.
Then—screams.
Not villagers.
Not beasts.
Their own voices, thrown back at them.
A-Yan's laugh twisted into a shriek.
Bai's calm whisper echoed as a threat.
Yiran arrived in the clearing, hands open.
"Everyone, circle in!"
They obeyed, without thinking.
She slammed her palm to the ground.
A lotus of light bloomed beneath their feet.
The Veiled Bloom Formation activated.
Ding! Team Formation Engaged: "Blooming Echo Array" (Prototype – Rank 1)Effect: Synchronizes disciple energy fields. Disperses environmental illusions within 15 meters. Boosts mental defense by 30%.Stability: Medium. Duration: 8 minutes.
The fog around them peeled back like dead skin.
And standing at the center—
A beast.
Barely shaped. All mist and claws and mouths. It spoke in music, not words.
"I… am… your song…"
Wushen stepped forward.
"No," he said. "You're a bad harmony."
He raised his flute.
And played.
Just four notes.
But each one carried the pain of loneliness, of exile, of the flute's first cry in a ruined Sect hall.
And the beast screamed—not in pain, but in dissonance.
Bai froze it.
Tianya pierced it.
Yiran sealed it.
And A-Yan punched the air so hard it cracked a tree.
The fog collapsed.
So did the song.
And in its place…
Silence.
Warm. Real. Alive.