Something is not right here..

Feng Xin and the mirage dragonfly pressed forward in silence, swiftly making their way toward the Green Fog Swamp Sect. Though the dragonfly had recovered enough to keep up, Feng Xin had deliberately slowed his pace to avoid straining it further.

The damage inflicted by the Leaves of Eternal Winter had left lingering effects. While Feng Xin had done his best to mitigate them, a full recovery would still take time.

The gap between the two in strength remained vast. Feng Xin stood at the tenth stage of the Core Formation Realm—two levels shy of the peak of that realm—while the mirage dragonfly lingered at the fourth stage.

Not only was their cultivation realm different, but so was the quality of their cores. Feng Xin had formed a Gold Core, while the dragonfly's core, based on Feng Xin's earlier deductions, seemed to be Orange with traces of Blue Motes—a sign it had potential but was still far inferior when compared to Feng Xin's.

After traveling for just over ten minutes, Feng Xin came to an abrupt stop and gestured for the mirage dragonfly to halt as well.

The surroundings didn't appear unusual. Trees, vines, weeds, and shallow, brackish water stretched endlessly in every direction. It looked like any other patch of the swamp.

The dragonfly tilted its head sideways, its large compound eyes flashing with confusion as if silently questioning why they'd stopped. It didn't detect any enemies nearby.

Feng Xin didn't answer. Instead, he extended his right hand and mimed a tearing motion, his fingers curling as if clawing at an invisible veil.

As his hand came down, the scenery shifted. The trees, vines, and swamp waters rippled like distorted reflections on glass before melting away to reveal something entirely different.

Before them now stood a tall green wooden gate, adorned with the intricate carving of a Tupelo Tree at its center. Beneath the engraved emblem, golden calligraphy gleamed faintly, spelling out:

"Green Fog Swamp Sect"

The words radiated an aura of vitality, and even a faint pressure emanated from them.

While Feng Xin and the mirage dragonfly remained unaffected, the same couldn't be said for weaker cultivators. Those in the Foundation Establishment Stage and even those in the first stage of the Core Formation realm would find it difficult to stand their ground under the suppressive force of that inscription.

The mirage dragonfly couldn't hide its astonishment as the illusion masking the sect faded away. It hadn't sensed the presence of any formations or fluctuations in the area earlier, which spoke volumes about the skill of the array master who had set it up. Their comprehension and techniques were clearly far superior to the dragonfly's own insights into formations.

Yet, in front of Feng Xin, the array seemed almost trivial—nothing more than a thin veil he could effortlessly pierce.

Feng Xin's brow furrowed slightly as unease crept into his thoughts.

"Strange… I can't sense any activity within the sect. No signs of blood, no lingering qi fluctuations from battle. It's too quiet."

Pushing aside his thoughts, Feng Xin stepped forward and pressed against the gates. The moment he tried to force them open, the defensive array activated.

A cold glint flickered in Feng Xin's eyes as he sensed the gathering intent of the killing formation. Before it could unleash its power, however, an icy chill rippled outward from Feng Xin. The formation froze solid in an instant, its qi flow disrupted and its mechanisms sealed by layers of frost.

With a push, the frozen gates creaked open, revealing a scene that immediately deepened the unease in Feng Xin's heart.

Silence.

Not the usual bustling hum of a thriving sect, but an unsettling stillness that made the wind rustling through the leaves sound unnaturally loud.

The interior of the sect was a stark contrast to the gloomy swamp outside. The oppressive green fog was gone, replaced by a lush, almost tranquil herb valley. The sect grounds were lined with vibrant flowers and plants growing along the edges of earth-red stone pathways. These pathways had been polished smooth, seamlessly blending into the natural beauty around them.

Yet despite the beauty, the complete absence of people felt wrong.

Feng Xin and the mirage dragonfly pressed deeper into the sect, their footsteps echoing faintly against the stone paths.

They passed rows of small, single-occupancy houses, judging by their size and how clustered they were, those houses were likely quarters for outer sect disciples. Each one bore flying eaves yellow-tiled roofs and red walls that harmonized with the pavements. A wooden board above the entrances labeled the area:

"Outer Sect Sleeping Quarters"

The delicate calligraphy only reinforced the eerie contrast between elegance and emptiness.

As they ventured further in, the buildings grew larger and more refined. They passed lecture halls, mess halls, and even combat arenas—all masterfully constructed yet equally deserted.

Soon, they reached the inner courtyards, reserved for the inner sect and core disciples. These courtyards stood apart, spaced more generously than the clustered outer sect quarters. Each one was surrounded by gardens and decorative ponds, showcasing the wealth and status of their inhabitants.

Yet not a single soul was in sight.

Feng Xin's sharp gaze scanned the surroundings, taking in every detail. Despite the beauty and order, an oppressive silence lingered—one that set him even further on edge.

The mirage dragonfly shifted uneasily behind him, its wings buzzing faintly in what seemed like nervous anticipation.

"What happened here?" Feng Xin muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing as he turned toward the five peaks that loomed further inside the sect grounds.

"Let's go."

All this time, as they moved, they never came across a single person. Feng Xin pressed forward without pause, heading in the same direction he had been pursuing since entering the sect: the central region where the five peaks were located. The closer they approached, the richer and more refined the qi became.

The buildings grew sparser with every rise. However, though fewer in number, they were noticeably grander in size compared to those they had passed earlier. A few, in particular, stood out. One was a tall, ancient-looking green pagoda that exuded a rich herbal aroma. A tall gate outside bore the words "Alchemy Division" inscribed on it. The others were dome-shaped pavilions, each belonging to different divisions: the Formation Array Division, Blacksmithing Division, Library Hall, Disciplinary Hall, Sect Missions Hall, and the Logistics Hall.

Despite the clear importance of these buildings, there was still no one in sight, creating an eerie and unsettling atmosphere throughout the area.

As they followed the path leading toward the central peak, Feng Xin caught sight of a faint purple-black smog dissipating on one of the peaks to the left of the central peak.

His nose twitched slightly, and without hesitation, he adjusted his course, heading directly for the source of the smog. Ina few short minutes, Feng Xin and the Mirage Dragonfly arrived at the base of the peak. Winding stone steps led upward, and the duo quickly began their ascent. The qi here was at least four times denser and richer than anywhere else they had been so far.

"The owner of this peak must hold a high status in the sect," Feng Xin mused.

The Mirage Dragonfly, overwhelmed by the abundance of qi, lost itself in greed, opening its pores wide to absorb the energy. It resembled a starving wanderer who had stumbled upon a feast and cool, refreshing water. Feng Xin glanced at the creature's gluttonous expression but paid it no further attention as they reached the summit.

The top of the peak was a broad, flat expanse, roughly a quarter the size of the sect. The area had a quaint, serene atmosphere, with scaled-down versions of the various halls and pavilions Feng Xin had passed earlier. A library, alchemy hall, blacksmithing hall, and a sprawling herbal garden were scattered across the plain. A small river flowed gracefully through the area, crisscrossed by numerous small wooden bridges.

At the center stood an enormous pavilion with orange-tiled roofs. The fading purple-black smog seemed to originate from this structure, with a few wisps still drifting lazily on the gentle breeze.

Feng Xin moved swiftly toward the pavilion, the Mirage Dragonfly trailing behind him, greedily absorbing the qi in the area as they advanced.

"I'd stop absorbing more qi from this area if I were you—unless you want to pass out," Feng Xin remarked, casting a sideways glance at the creature.

The Mirage Dragonfly paused, puzzled by Feng Xin's warning, but soon a wave of faintness washed over it. It shook its head a few times, trying to dispel the sensation, but the effort proved futile. Frustrated, it began flapping its wings furiously, producing a rapid metallic vibration. Golden specks of dust mixed with dew began to seep from its body, followed by a stream of purple-black liquid. The liquid evaporated instantly under the intense heat radiating from its wings, which buzzed in an almost desperate frenzy.

The process continued until the Mirage Dragonfly was confident no trace of the purple-black liquid remained. It finally stilled its wings and hovered, scanning its surroundings with an air of weariness that contrasted sharply with its earlier carefree demeanor.

The dragonfly had let down its guard in Feng Xin's presence, relying on the man's evident strength and his ability to resolve any unexpected dangers. However, this reliance had made it forget one crucial rule every resident of the Green Fog region—be they spirit beast or human—knew well: poison was the true king here.

Brute strength was valued in most places, but in the Green Fog region, poison ruled supreme. Half the creatures and plants in the area possessed natural poisonous abilities, while the other half survived through exceptional awareness and speed. Some creatures, like the Green Flash Viper, excelled in both. This fearsome predator was a master of venom, high-speed attacks, and evasion, making it one of the three "False Kings" of the lower southern Green Fog Swamp.

Yet there were exceptions—oddities that defied the region's norms, like the Green-Flowered Babirusa. This massive beast lacked speed and poison, relying purely on brute strength. Despite these apparent weaknesses, it stood at the peak of the food chain, thanks to the miraculous green flower on its head, which granted it the ability to heal rapidly from wounds, including those inflicted by poison.

To survive in the Green Fog region, one had to excel either in using poison or defending against it. A single misstep could mean an untraceable, agonizing death. Even the most seasoned residents—some who had lived here for centuries—remained constantly vigilant.

The Mirage Dragonfly, however, had momentarily forgotten this harsh truth only to be reminded of it once more. Luckily for it, this time the cost of the re-education wasn't as steep as it usually was. Under normal circumstances the cost would have been its life.