Inside the gray mist, the Cold and aloof woman and her squad mates warily scanned their surroundings.
"Where is everyone? They've vanished!" The woman clutching a mirror looked around, her face ashen.
Within her mirror, everything had turned a dull gray; the artifact was useless.
"Stay alert!" The ring on the Cold and aloof woman's finger glowed blue, and the Power of Wind and Snow condensed overhead.
The Holy Soldiers instinctively formed a defensive sphere: melee fighters outside, ranged fighters within.
The moment the gray fog appeared, events spiraled beyond anyone's expectations.
Minutes earlier they had been relaxed; now every face was grim, the scythe of death poised above their heads.
"Amitābha!" At that instant, an icy, hollow Buddhist chant echoed in everyone's ears.
Though the words were foreign, each listener suddenly grasped their meaning.
The cold woman spun toward the left. Seven or eight meters away in the fog…
…a pitch-black creature loomed, a ring of black light behind it. Wisps of dark qi drifted about, within which the shadow of a temple flickered.
At the sight of the Ghost Buddha, alarm bells screamed in her mind; mortal danger surged.
She tried to summon a storm of snow, but her body refused to obey. Hollow sutras droned beside her ears.
"Formless, selfless…"
Riiip! Riiip!
The camera pulled back, leaving only wet tearing sounds within the fog and the thick reek of blood.
Outside, the Ghost Bride's gray fog already spanned ten kilometers; inside, empowered by the Ghost Realm, it stretched a hundred.
The moment a Holy Soldier Squad of the Eternal Church entered, its members were scattered across the mist.
"Damn, what kind of freak power is this now?" Lucas cursed. Both arms were sheathed in crimson metal, half-meter scarlet scythe-blades jutting from his elbows.
He'd wanted a straight duel with Tyrant, but the fog had shattered those plans and separated him from the rest of the squad.
Thud… thud… thud…
Heavy footsteps sounded ahead. Lucas, who had been glancing around, snapped his gaze toward the street.
Thud… thud… thud…
The steps drew closer. A five-meter giant appeared, its body encased in thick Bone Armor.
"You… strong!" The words came awkwardly from the armored colossus.
Lucas, Revolver half-raised, froze. "You can talk?"
Until now the monsters had either stayed silent or merely roared; a speaking one gave him pause.
The deeper he ventured, the more he needed to understand this place.
Yet the bone giant offered no reply.
Han Qi had only memorized a few phrases from the Laboratory on the City of Mist's moon; anything more was beyond him, and Lucas's question left him blank.
On the lunar base, Dong Guangjie had recorded native phrases with translations for them to study.
Seeing no response, Lucas narrowed his eyes.
The air between them turned heavy.
Bang! Han Qi's legs exploded downward; the ground cratered as he charged, roaring, "Aaaargh!"
Bone erupted from his armor, forging a massive tower-shield in front of him.
He had watched Lucas fight from afar—strong enough to rank mid-tier Level Five here.
That was exactly the sort of foe he sought, a life-and-death crucible for breakthrough.
Lucas raised twin Revolvers. "Won't talk? I'll pry the answers out after I break you!"
Boom! Boom!
Two shots cracked. Han Qi closed to within meters; the bone shield exploded under the bullets.
The slugs, momentum spent, punched into his chest.
Bang! Bang! Bone shards flew; two gaping craters appeared in his torso.
Most of the impact had been absorbed; the residual force couldn't breach his armor.
Argh!" Han Qi reached Lucas and smashed both fists downward.
"Too slow!" Lucas snapped. He folded his arms inward, revealing the crimson elbow-blades.
He slashed forward; red arcs sheared across Han Qi's thighs.
Shluck! Han Qi's left leg parted, but long practice with Li Yong's dismemberment tactics kept him from toppling.
Crash! His fists slammed the ground where Lucas had stood, stone and dust geysering upward—Lucas was gone.
As Han Qi searched, Lucas reappeared behind him, Twin Guns leveled at his back; Han Qi's severed leg lay nearby.
Bang! An explosion of blood.
Lucas staggered back into the mist, staring in disbelief at the bone spike transfixing his thigh—the spike came not from Han Qi but from the discarded leg on the ground.
Han Qi turned. The dismembered limb had sprouted spikes; one was stained red.
"When you can't see the enemy, odds are they're behind you. Lucky guess." Bone surged from his stump, forging a new leg in moments.
Crack! Crack!
Four-meter bone spears bristled from his frame.
Thud… thud… thud… He charged into the mist, following the faint scent of blood.
Lucas was there.