Chapter Ninety-Two: The Mist with False Core Power

Do not act rashly yet. Send the novice monks to the rear mountain at once, notify the other monks to assemble in the Great Hall, quickly.

At the sight of the bizarre scene before them, the old monk’s expression turned grave.

“Yes!”

“Yes!”

“Yes!”

The leading senior monk gave the mist a long, searching look, then turned and led the young monks at a run toward the rear mountain.

Follow me!

This time there was no need for the senior monk to say more. With so many important figures suddenly appearing in the courtyard, the atmosphere had turned solemn at once. The novice monks hardly dared breathe loudly; when they heard the familiar voice of the senior monk, they followed without hesitation.

...

Before the Great Hall, the monks gathered. The heads of each division stood at the front, with their respective disciples behind them. A crowd of monks looked in unison at the few men standing before them.

"What should we do?" Mingqing, the monk over two meters tall with thick eyebrows, frowned as he looked at the mist already spreading toward them, vast as a storm cloud.

...

All eyes turned to the abbot standing at the very front.

"This mist..." The abbot looked at the all-encompassing haze, his heart heavy. Mingqing had already told him what had happened earlier; even his Flame Palm had not stirred the slightest ripple. The strangeness of this mist was evident enough.

After a moment of contemplation, the abbot made his decision.

The problem now was that they did not know how strange this mist truly was, nor what effect it might have. So the first thing they had to determine was precisely that: what the mist did.

Thinking of this, the abbot swept his gaze over the monks behind him and finally settled on the heads standing in the rear.

Feeling the abbot’s gaze fall on him, Mingqing paused. Then he reacted, glanced at the mist that was already almost upon them, and a flash of resolve appeared in his eyes. "Abbot, let me try the mist’s effect."

"Mm." A trace of reluctance flashed in the abbot’s eyes, but it vanished almost immediately. He nodded lightly. "Go."

The others looked at Mingqing, each showing a flicker of intent, but when they looked at the mist before them and then at the monks behind them, they let the thought go.

If they could not solve the mist in front of them, many things were only a matter of time.

And not very much time, either.

In other words, it was only a matter of moments.

"Go."

"Take care."

"Be careful."

Mingqing nodded, carrying everyone’s warnings with him, and strode quickly toward the mist.

...

"Hm?" Very soon, Mingqing reached the edge of the mist and, without the slightest hesitation, stepped inside. The moment he entered, he let out a startled cry.

The mist was cool, with the fresh chill of water. As it touched his body, Mingqing even felt a measure of comfort.

"What is going on? How can this be?" A strange sense of disappointment rose suddenly in Mingqing’s heart. He had entered with the courage of a man walking toward death, only to encounter this result. The enormous contrast left him feeling oddly relieved, yet also inexplicably disconcerted.

"Mingqing, what is it like inside?" Outside, the monks watched him intently. Seeing that he had gone in and then stood there, his outline instantly blurred, their hearts tightened at once. Those on good terms with him hurriedly called out.

Could something have happened?

Why had he stopped moving?

Had he discovered something?

"Oh!" The monks’ voices roused Mingqing from his daze. He hastily shouted back, "I’m fine. This mist seems to be only mist; there doesn’t appear to be any danger!"

"What?"

"Really?"

At his words, the monks were overjoyed, and their hearts finally eased. After slowly exhaling the stale breath held in their chests, they heard similar breaths being released nearby and could not help turning to look.

"Haha!"

"Haha!"

"Hahaha!"

Seeing that others wore the same expression as themselves, everyone broke into laughter.

"All right, danger has been cleared." The abbot smiled, then said aloud to the crowd, "Since this mist is of no danger, you may retreat for now."

"Oh, all right." Mingqing answered. He moved his body and turned, preparing to step back out.

"What?" Suddenly, a tremendous force appeared out of nowhere. Just as Mingqing was about to turn, it pressed upon him from both sides like two mountains, pinning him in place so that he could not move. He could not help crying out.

"Wa-wait!" Sensing his present predicament, Mingqing suddenly jolted. A great sense of danger surged through him, and cold sweat immediately broke out over his body. Then a thought struck him, and panic seized him. At once he cried out in a trembling voice.

"Hm?"

"What is it?"

"What happened?"

"Is there some problem?"

Hearing the warped edge in Mingqing’s voice, the monks who had just lowered their guard instantly tensed again. They could clearly hear the fear in his tone.

"Fear?" The abbot’s white brows knit together at once. Mingqing was one of the strongest men in the monastery; in temperament and character, he was the very model of hardness. Yet even he now spoke with fear. What on earth had he seen? What exactly was inside that mist?

Behind them, the ordinary monks all looked toward the heads of their various divisions with worried eyes. They, too, could hear the fear in Mingqing’s voice.

Mingqing, at the peak of the middle stage of the human-divine realm, had already opened two hundred and eighteen of the three hundred and sixty-five gates. By strength alone, he was already considered one of the upper ranks of the monastery.

And yet such a man, after entering the mist, had let out a cry filled with such terror.

Didn’t that already prove that the danger in front of them was far greater than they had imagined?

"What did you see?" The abbot’s old face was stern. He could no longer spare any attention for the monks behind him, who were gradually growing restless, and shouted the question.

At the abbot’s words, Mingqing’s face filled with bitterness. He lowered his head to look at himself, then turned to look left and right. After that, he closed his eyes.

A mountain on each side.

After closing his eyes, Mingqing shifted his body slightly, and immediately felt the immense pressure from both sides, tangible as substance, like two impregnable mountains trapping him in place.

Inner energy circulated through his body as Mingqing sensed the pressure surrounding him, trying to determine its size, its height, its depth.

But very quickly, Mingqing gave up on the attempt himself. In his perception, no matter how much strength he used, it was like gazing up at a mountain beyond reach; he could not sense the edge of the pressure on either side at all.

In Mingqing’s feeling, the power of this force reminded him of only one being.

The Old Ancestor.

But the Old Ancestor was a legendary being of false core strength, the final trump card and foundation of the Bodhi Monastery.

False core.

A realm whose mere name could make those who heard it tremble. In the martial world, it had already become a legend, with only the major sects possessing one such figure as their deepest foundation.

Only with a legendary being of false core realm could one be called a major sect.

Simply put: false core was rare, false core was precious, false core was legend.

It existed only in legend; in reality, it was almost never seen.

Yet Mingqing could plainly feel, from the pressure coming from both sides, the same sense of power as from the Old Ancestor. Which meant that this mist might already have reached the level of false core strength.

That a mere mist could reach false core was absurd to the ear, like nonsense spoken in jest, but now Mingqing was certain: this was the truth.

This mist truly possessed false core strength.

That was also why his voice trembled when he spoke.

Fear?

Who could stand before an opponent of false core strength and not be afraid?