Chapter Ninety-One: An Unaccountable Mist

Page 1 of 3

The information of heaven and earth—its nature, its structure, its movement—when those three become one, it may be called a world.

Like building with blocks: different shapes, placed in different positions, each fitting with the others to form the pattern one wishes to create in the end.

Because the illusory world had taken shape, Zhou Yi obtained the complete information of heaven and earth. Though he could not use it to create an entire world, he could still accomplish some simpler things.

For example, by combining the clarity of water with the weight of mountains, and then exerting immense control to fuse them into a small world of water.

Five hundred years of pure inner force, together with the power of heaven and earth within a thousand meters, united as one—only then did he finally fashion this water sphere!

Just how much power this sphere truly held, even Zhou Yi himself did not know, because this was the first time he had ever made one; he had no experience.

It might be utterly useless, nothing more than a water sphere. Or it might be...

Crash!

With a look of anticipation, Zhou Yi hurled the sphere violently to the ground.

The instant it struck, the water sphere shattered just like an ordinary one. The tiny worlds within scattered, danced briefly in the air, and then abruptly dissolved.

Mist, appearing without anyone knowing when, drifted out in a pale, smoky white, spreading in all directions at astonishing speed. Almost the moment it came into view, it had already filled every sightline.

Boundless and vast, everything before the eye turned white in an instant. At first there were still faint traces of scenery, but soon even those were swallowed by the whiteness, until all became white.

It was as though one stood among the clouds high in the sky, surrounded on every side by vapor.

Seeing this sudden change, Song Hai sent out his awareness, and very soon his face was lit with delight.

Zhou Yi smiled as well. With the appearance of this cloud and mist, he finally understood what use the sphere he had created actually had.

To seal off a mountain, it was simply perfect.

...

The mist spread swiftly, following the winding mountain path as it drifted upward, its pace far surpassing that of any ordinary person climbing a mountain.

On the summit, grand halls rose in layered peaks, arranged in orderly heights. Groups of shaven-headed monks were distributed throughout the various halls—some practicing martial arts, some chanting scriptures, some seated in meditation, some chatting.

"Huh? Fog?" In one of the halls near the mountain gate, a group of monks stood in scattered formation, practicing their skills. This hall was the closest to the descent, and when the mist climbed to the summit, a sharp-eyed monk noticed it first.

Page 2 of 3

These monks were all very young; the eldest was no more than eleven or twelve, the youngest only five. Their natures were restless, and once the monk who spotted the mist cried out, most of them stopped their movements and turned curious eyes toward the slowly advancing haze.

"How can there be mist on the summit?" The elder monk leading the little novices in their drills stood before them. Hearing the child's cry, he was puzzled and looked toward the sound.

"There really is mist!" Seeing the slowly drifting haze, the elder monk first froze, then instantly realized something was wrong. His heart lurched. No, this was not right. Something was happening!

"This mist seems alive!" Watching the mist creep forward, the elder monk widened his eyes. It coiled and wound like a serpent, and he actually felt as if it were some living thing!

"Back! Retreat at once!" Anxiety surged through him. Though he did not yet know what this mist was, the nameless unease in his heart left him flustered and alarmed.

"Huh?"

"Retreat?"

"Why should we retreat?"

"This mist is so pretty, why retreat? I still want to touch it."

"Exactly, exactly! We've only ever looked at it from far away. We've never touched it before."

"..." Veins stood out on the elder monk's forehead. Hearing the little novices chatter like a flock of sparrows, his sense of danger only grew stronger. There was no time left!

"Retreat!" Drawing a deep breath, the elder monk bellowed with all his might, shaking the air around him. Every little novice froze and stared blankly at him.

"Back already!" The elder monk was almost driven mad by their dazed expressions. What time was it, and they were still so carefree? Even if they were only children, this was going too far!

Whoosh!

No longer willing to waste time trying to make the novices understand the gravity of the situation, he moved with uncanny speed. In an instant he appeared beside one child, scooped him up, vanished, then reappeared beside another, seized him, vanished again, and rushed toward the rear hall.

Back and forth in such fashion, the elder monk barely managed to carry all the little novices into the rear hall before the mist covered the entire main hall.

In truth, it was not entirely his doing. At first he had only taken one child to the back hall. After that, even those who still did not understand began to notice his actions and grasped a few things. They very sensibly followed after him and came to the rear hall on their own.

"This is serious!" After bringing all the little monks into the hall behind, the elder monk did not feel relieved at all. On the contrary, his expression became even more grave. Looking at the mist that had already covered the entire hall and was now gradually surging toward the hall where they stood, a thought suddenly arose in his mind.

"What happened?"

"What is going on?"

Page 3 of 3

"What is this?"

"Mist? What is that thing!"

"What a situation—how can mist become this dense, and still appear on the summit?"

"No, wait. This mist is wrong. It... it seems alive!"

As the elder monk stood grimly watching the mist before him, he suddenly heard a rapid series of sharp sounds cutting through the air. Then one great bald head after another appeared. The moment they arrived, they saw the mist before them as though it had come to life, and all of them cried out in shock.

"What is this mist?"

Among the arriving monks, an elderly white-browed, white-haired monk looked at the surging haze and asked.

"I don't know. It came suddenly. On the surface, it doesn't seem dangerous, but judging by what it is doing, it is very strange," said the first elder monk, his gaze fixed on the mist and his expression solemn.

Boom!

Beside him, a monk well over two meters tall, with thick brows sharp as blades, furrowed his brow. Without another word, he thrust out a palm toward the mist before him.

A golden palm print flew from his hand, rapidly enlarging. By the time it reached the mist, it was still a full three meters across. Then palm and mist collided.

Swoosh!

In an instant, everyone's expression changed. The palm print vanished at once into the mist without a trace, leaving only a faint sound behind, after which there was no movement at all!

"What kind of mist is this?" Seeing that, a middle-aged monk in a green robe could not help twitching his brows, his face darkening.

One had to know that Monk Mingqing's Flame Palm was fierce beyond measure. That very strike, if landed on stone, could turn it to powder; if struck against the ground, it would leave a pit several meters deep as a matter of course. Yet when it hit this inexplicably appearing mist, there was no reaction whatsoever.

It was truly like seeing a ghost.