The Ascetic League, a company of travelers bathed in the ethereal glow of dawn and pushed forward by winds whispering of forgotten lore, marched towards the rumored citadel of the Renegade Tribe!

Before them, a sight most daunting unfurled: a horizon swallowed by a ceaseless, roiling expanse of black mist. So dense was this unnatural fog, that not even the keenest eye could pierce its veil, nor could the most potent of spirit-sight find purchase within. Those who dared to probe its depths risked utter obliteration, their very souls devoured by the specters rumored to dwell within.

From the heart of this impenetrable darkness echoed a chorus of chilling howls, each note resonating with a power that struck at the very marrow of mortal courage.

Enshrouded by this ebony shroud, the Renegade Tribe’s domain remained unseen, its secrets guarded by a barrier that spanned leagues. To the vast majority, this foreboding spectacle would be enough to halt their advance, to send them fleeing in terror.

But for the man adorned in golden armor, the sight only fueled his grim determination. His face, a mask of cold fury, contorted as he declared with icy resolve, “This paltry veil is all that stands between us and the rogue Wang Lin! Shatter this defense, and the errant one is ours for the taking!”

Around him stood his retinue, their faces etched with apprehension as they gazed upon the oppressive gloom. Words failed them, choked by the palpable dread radiating from the swirling darkness.

Within the ranks, Bo Yunshan harbored a secret amusement. From his sister’s whispers, he knew more than most. The Elder Council had dispatched a Celestial Guard to apprehend Wang Lin, a task deemed so trivial that eager hands had scrambled for the honor.

The messenger’s warning – that Wang Lin’s domain was guarded by a formidable black mist – had been dismissed as mere embellishment by those blinded by ambition. They held unwavering faith that the Celestial Guard would overcome all obstacles.

Bo Yunshan surveyed his meager band, barely twenty souls strong. Most were fledgling practitioners, scarcely past the threshold of nascent power. A scant few had attained the intermediate stage of their craft. Only one among them, the taciturn Uncle Feng, possessed the strength of a true master.

A wave of sorrow washed over Bo Yunshan as his gaze fell upon the elder, his hair the color of winter frost. Uncle Feng, a revered disciple of his father, had been tasked to safeguard him on this ill-fated venture into the Demon Spirit Land.

Yet, through his sister’s treachery and the Elder Council’s machinations, he and Uncle Feng were now bound to a dark fate. His uncle’s mind had been wiped clean, and made a puppet, through ancestral magic, and an immortal seed was planted in his body.

“This so-called black mist is nothing more than a charade,” the Golden Knight barked, his voice cracking like thunder. “Ten! Break this illusion!”

One of the neophytes, his face ashen with fear, hesitated, yet dared not defy the order. With a silent sigh, he bowed low. “As you command.”

He steeled his resolve and lunged forward, a lone figure hurled towards the encroaching darkness. As he drew closer, the oppressive force intensified, threatening to crush his very spirit. The chilling howls intensified, transforming into a sonic barrage that battered his senses.

Barely a thousand paces from the mist’s edge, he faltered, his steps halting. A chilling certainty gripped him: to press onward was to court certain death!

Seeing his subordinate’s hesitation, the Golden Knight’s face darkened with rage. “Ten! Do you dare defy my command?”

The young practitioner’s face crumpled in despair. With a sigh that carried the weight of years, he muttered, “Perhaps it is time for this hollow existence to end. To meet my end here would be a release.”

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he planted his feet and surged forward, a mortal comet streaking towards the impenetrable void.

In the blink of an eye, he traversed the distance, his form flickering like a candle in the face of a tempest. At that instant, the black mist stirred, churning with violent energy. A deafening roar erupted from within, as the swirling darkness coalesced into a monstrous maw, capable of swallowing the heavens themselves. With a single, horrifying gulp, the abyss devoured the hapless Ten, leaving no trace behind.

The sky pulsed with the rage of the mist, the turbulent clouds forming grotesque, mushroom-like shapes that spread outwards with alarming speed.

The piercing shrieks intensified, a cacophony that echoed through the heavens and into the hearts of all who listened.

The Ascetic League, save for a few hardened veterans, stared in stunned horror. Though they remained at a distance, the terror of the spectacle washed over them, leaving their bodies slick with cold sweat. It was as if they, too, had been consumed by that monstrous maw.

In the rear of the formation, the Celestial Guard, his obsidian eyes glinting, peered intently at the churning darkness, a flicker of curiosity crossing his impassive features.

“C-Captain…” stammered one of the Golden Knight’s attendants, his voice trembling with fear. “That mist…”

The Golden Knight’s face hardened further. He pointed a gauntleted finger towards the white-haired elder. “Three, you go!”

The elder, Uncle Feng, stirred, his eyes vacant. Without a word, he stepped forward, obediently marching towards the terrifying shroud.

Bo Yunshan clenched his fists, his heart twisting with anguish as he watched his uncle’s inexorable march towards the unknown.

The elder reached the threshold of the black mist. As he prepared to venture forth, the inky shroud writhed and parted before him. The darkness split asunder, creating a path of clear space, an invitation into the heart of the Renegade Tribe’s domain.

From the depths of the mist, a youth emerged, his face etched with cold indifference. His eyes swept over the elder, then lingered on the Ascetic League. “Our Ancestor extends an invitation to you all,” he said, his voice devoid of warmth.

The Golden Knight’s face twitched. “Three! Kill him!” he shrieked, his voice laced with desperation. “Follow the path! That is how we will enter!”

The cold youth, Thirteeen, remained unmoved, the elder’s face fell vacant, and he turned to his young master. With a swift, unnatural movement, the black mist lashed out, enveloping the elder. The master disappeared, swallowed whole, leaving no sound.

The scene struck the assembled Ascetic League like a thunderbolt, especially Bo Yunshan, whose eyes reddened.

Thirteen raised a hand in invitation.

“Please, proceed.”

With those words, he turned and vanished back into the swirling darkness.
Lord Auric, his countenance a tempest of shifting shadows, glanced uneasily over his shoulder at the grim figure clad in sable who stood behind. A flicker of reassurance crossed his face, and he let out a brittle laugh. “Let us see what sorcery this Wang Lin weaves,” he declared, his voice echoing in the oppressive gloom.

The contingent of the Ascendant League surged forward, following a path carved through the inky mist that writhed like living shadows. As they ventured deeper, the passage behind them vanished, swallowed whole by the encroaching darkness.

Soon, Lord Auric halted abruptly, his eyes wide with disbelief, his face a mask of horror. The warriors behind him gasped, their faces frozen in stunned silence.

Before them lay a vast encampment, a sprawling settlement teeming with life. Countless eyes, cold and calculating, turned towards them, the assembled gaze of the tribe a palpable weight that pressed down upon even the seasoned warriors of the League.

At the heart of the encampment, amidst a barren expanse stretching for ten leagues, stood a towering obsidian spire. From its peak, a wave of oppressive power pulsed outwards, a suffocating aura that gripped their lungs and stole their breath.

Before the boundary of the empty space, Thirteen, a figure cloaked in shadows, bowed low. “Ancestor,” he intoned, his voice carrying on the wind, “the guests have arrived.”

A voice, resonant and laced with a subtle power, echoed from within the tower. “You come bearing ill intent, noble sirs. Has this Wang Lin given offense?” Though the words were courteous, the voice resonated with an unsettling magic, weaving through the air and permeating the entire Soul-Weaver tribe.

It was the Siren Song, a whisper of madness woven into sound, a skill Wang Lin had honed as he deepened the Scattered Demon Brand within himself. All but the sable-clad warrior succumbed to its insidious charm. He, strengthened by his celestial rank, merely narrowed his eyes, his gaze locked on the tower, his face a tableau of warring emotions.

Lord Auric, his mind reeling, his eyes glazed with confusion, stammered, “No offense…”

The voice from the tower deepened, becoming a chilling rasp. “Then your intrusion upon this place is unforgivable!”

In that instant, the entire Soul-Weaver tribe, their minds linked in a terrifying unity, roared as one: “Unforgivable!”

The word, amplified by the collective will of the tribe and mingled with the mournful cries of spirits trapped within the swirling mists, crashed upon the invaders like a thunderclap. It was as if a thousand swords pierced their hearts, leaving their ears ringing, their souls trembling.

Several of the weaker warriors, their faces contorted in agony, tasted blood, their inner essence shattered. The shock served to shatter the hypnotic spell, leaving them trembling and shaken.

Lord Auric recoiled, stumbling back several paces, his face etched with fear. His own discomfort was amplified in the panicked faces of his companions.

Only Brush-Cloud Shan felt a surge of elation that drowned out the terror. In his heart, he cried out, “It is him! It truly is him!”

Lord Auric, his voice a desperate shriek, called out, “Celestial Guard, strike!”

The sable-clad warrior, who had remained impassive until now, moved with blinding speed. In a single stride, he crossed the distance to the tower, his hands forming a celestial seal. With a mighty thrust, he unleashed a torrent of golden energy that coalesced into a colossal celestial seal, plummeting towards the obsidian tower.

A cold laugh echoed from within the tower, and Wang Lin emerged, his eyes devoid of emotion. Without even glancing at the descending seal, his hand crackled with black lightning as he reached out, his voice a deadly calm. “Come down.”

The black lightning seized the celestial seal, causing cracks to spiderweb across its surface. With a final, shattering roar, it disintegrated into motes of light. The sable-clad warrior’s face twisted in horror as an invisible force, reeking of death and decay, slammed into him, dragging him screaming from the sky.

With a sickening thud, he crashed into the earth before the tower.