Black miasma, green smoke and demons as far as the eye can see!

They had barely left the protective spells behind and advanced a few meters into the dense forest when the yao attacks came at them in waves. Their actions still had no effect whatsoever; for every demon killed, three new ones appeared, they came ever closer to the camp, the protective spells grew weaker and weaker, the demons stronger and stronger.

With a powerful swing, Xiaodan's silvery light cut through the dense branches, striking down a dozen lesser fiends. All that remained was writhing, angrily hissing black mist. It receded only a few centimeters with every step forward, lapping greedily at her shoes and writhing along her ankles. Zhen yan allowed the miasma to disintegrate into dust under his burning gaze, and yet it became thicker, more impenetrable and more corrupt with every step they took.

A few hours felt like days, and Ying yue felt as if they were treading on the spot. Every tree, every path and every root looked the same. The swampy, blue-drenched ground slowly gave way to harder, trodden ground. The young swordsman narrowed his eyes. The miasma was so dense that it almost stood over their heads; he could see nothing.

Even if a Yao were standing directly in front of him, he could neither recognize him nor make out his aura under the stifling corruption. His breathing was laboured and jerky. With every deeper breath he drew the evil into his lungs and had to gag. This venture would not make sense for long. He felt the protective spells of his clothes weakening; he might as well throw himself naked into the fog, it would soon make no difference. Zhen yan had approached him.

Ying yue's neck hairs stood on end, but he didn't turn around to face him, but watched the demon's actions out of the corner of his eye. Green smoke battled with black mist. They entwined, almost dancing with each other.

The dark, green smoke, which smelled faintly of burnt cedar wood and spring blossoms, mixed with the miasma, eating away at it from the inside and causing it to disintegrate into dust. Undeterred, the smoke crept across the ground, mingling with the fog and winding upwards, tearing it to the ground and revealing the view a few meters ahead. Ying yue staggered briefly, but pulled herself together.

»There's no point in looking for anything in this darkness, we've been walking for a few hours and we can't even see our hands in front of our faces anymore!« he said, cutting through the fog in front of him with Xiaodan.

»It's been more than a day already,« Zen yan corrected him. Now Ying yue turned around to face him. His eyebrows drawn together, he looked at the demon questioningly. Zhen yan stepped even closer to him. »I was wondering why you don't take a break. Apparently, the miasma confuses your senses, makes you believe that you've only been here for a few hours while it drains your life out of you and leads you astray,« he said, looking Ying yue deep in the eyes.

Then he stepped around him, gently pressed Ying yue's back against his chest and covered the swordsman's dark eyes with his hands. Before Ying yue could protest, he felt the slight pain that had spread in his eyeballs while he had frantically tried to peer through the fog dissolve. He blinked a few times and his thick eyelashes brushed against Zhen yan's palms.

»Close your eyes for a moment!« Zhen yan whispered, and his dark, soft voice entered his mind through Ying yue's ears, spreading like warm spring water throughout his body and driving away the icy, putrid cold within him. Ying yue struggled briefly, but then closed his eyes and concentrated on the warmth that flowed from Zhen yan into him.

Again, he felt a sweet, sharp pain in his lower abdomen and his heart contracted before it involuntarily pounded a little faster. His head grew lighter and clearer. The demon formed some complicated sequence of signs with his fingers before he whispered in his ear: »Open!«

Ying yue opened his eyes again. It took a moment for him to get used to the new view. He rubbed his eyes and looked more closely. The world had turned like a negative. The black mist almost glowed now, while the sparse daylight had darkened.

It was now easier to see through the dense trees and roots. They were surrounded by Yao, but they fell faster than she could gather herself. Zhen yan's magic, which he had barely noticed before, flowed out of him unabated, over the ground like a steady stream, devouring everything it touched. Ying yue looked down, and columns of smoke were also snaking out of him, but they did not hurt him; he felt the warmth permeating him.

Before he could say anything, Zhen yan's arms were around him, with one hand he stroked Ying yue's chest, with the other he snaked up his neck and pushed his head back so that he had to look at the demon. Zhen yan was beautiful even now.

His otherwise black hair shimmered white, his skin had taken on a dull grayish, silver tone and his glowing eyes rested on Ying yue. He bent Ying yue's head slightly to the side and ran the tip of his tongue over his skin. A lightning bolt shot through Ying yue's body, over his skin, branching out into his bones and making his muscles vibrate.

»Zhen yan!« he growled threateningly.

»It's all right,« the demon whispered in his ear and let go of him. ‚That was my reward for the clear view,' he said softly, then took a step back, allowing Ying yue to breathe more freely again. To be on the safe side, Yingyue increased the distance between them a little more, now that he had a clear view. He bent his fingers tentatively, and the glowing green smoke curled around his fingertips, wound around his joints and nestled against his skin.

Magic was diverse and took on the most diverse forms and guises. Xiaodan was such a magical item with a mind and will of its own. Other things such as talismans, bells or protective circles were also forms of magic. Sometimes it took on other appearances, in the form of glistening white light or a feeling.

Zhen yan's magic, however, was part of himself and especially powerful. It felt as if a part of the great demon was still embracing him, its warmth and the scent of spring blossoms lingered on Ying yue's skin. It didn't need an object or another medium to work.

What kind of demon had he gotten himself into? Finally, he said, glancing at Zhen yan, whom he could hardly look at: »Let's move on!« Zhen yan gestured for him to lead the way. Ying yue's sense of time improved, but nevertheless, they did nothing but fight their way through the thicket, destroying demons and taking short breaks here and there.

Several days passed before the crowds of Yao thinned out and they emerged from the corrupted forest into a wide clearing. Without Zhen yan's magic, Ying yue would certainly not have been able to see his hand in front of his face, but now the ominously glowing miasma blinded him. He was on guard, with Xiaodan at the ready, they continued on cautiously.

The grass at their feet had dried up and crunched under every step. Above them, the miasma covered the sky like a bell and did not let any sunbeam through. Ying yue could feel the cold. Without the warmth that the green smoke gave his skin, he would not be able to endure it for long. Even in his robe of the Bai Clan, he would freeze to death in a few hours. Someone was coming towards them, and Ying yue stopped abruptly and scrutinized the person.

He was wearing a black, fur-trimmed battle robe. The metal-tipped parts of his armor clanged ominously, and he dragged heavy, long iron chains with him. Ying yue tightened his grip on his sword, which vibrated so violently that he feared it would buzz out of its scabbard on its own. The stranger, who was stomping towards them, carried his head with the tangled black hair and bloodshot eyes under his arm, with each step more black mist billowed out of him.

His footprints steamed and hissed. He stopped a few meters in front of them. The lifeless, bloody eyes raced in their sockets until they fixed on Ying yue. Although the figure looked creepy and exuded a corrupt, putrid aura, the swordsman's fear was limited.

After the time he had spent with Zhen yan, he was sure that there was very little in this world that the great demon could not kill, and as long as he was not one of them, nothing else needed to scare him. With one hand on the shaft, he glanced back. As expected, Zhen yan was standing very close to him, watching the corrupted malignant spirit with disinterest. Slowly and quietly, Ying yue Xiaodan drew out his sword, and a silvery, shimmering light spread out.

The ghost's gaze slid from the man to the sword. His leathery face contorted into an eerie grin. »Give... eat... to me!« he rasped dryly, taking another step. He was instantly fascinated by Ying yue's sword. Ghosts of the deceased were usually weak residues of spiritual energy and would sooner or later dissolve by themselves. Sometimes, if they found their or a suitable body, their haunting could become nasty, nightmarish and bloody.

But ghosts consumed by worldly sins like greed could become vicious undead after their death, driven by their insatiable greed. The ghost of this fighter here was driven by the greed for the ultimate weapon, and when he saw Xiaodan, his body went into a joyful frenzy.

»Give, give, give!« he demanded, jumping up and down. Ying yue's eyebrows narrowed. The fact that the yao had thinned out was a harbinger of stronger monsters. They were getting closer to the source.

»No!« Ying yue said firmly and increased the distance between them a little more. The ghost paused, its head jerking and twitching until it turned so that it could stare at Ying yue again. Its disappointed expression changed to one of murderous rage.

His arm released the head and reached for something on his back. Ying yue had expected the head to hit the ground and roll away, but instead it only sank a few centimeters and dangled, with its hair knotted to his belt. He looked up just in time to see a huge saber swooping down on him. The pure gaze was certainly useful, but rather unsuitable in combat situations.

Ying yue had not yet adjusted to the new color spectrum. With a fluid movement and an object that emerged from his green smoke, Zhen yan caught the saber before it could graze Ying yue. The swordsman blinked a few times. With a strong blow against the saber, it swung back and Zhen yan and Ying yue put more distance between themselves and the raging ghost.

»What is that?« Ying yue asked, looking in disbelief at the object in Zhen yan's hand.

»An umbrella,« he replied, unmoved.

»I — I can see that!« Ying yue exclaimed, annoyed.

»Made of oiled paper, wonderful, isn't it? Pure craftsmanship.«

Ying yue parried the fierce blows of the ghost and threw him off balance. But he quickly recovered, spun around and was about to cut Ying yue in half when Zhen yan once again caught the blow with his umbrella and threw it back.

»That's not a weapon, is it?« Ying yue said, slightly out of breath.

»As you can see, and an excellent one at that,« Zhen yan replied lightly. ‚Anyone can fight with a sword and a saber, and even fighting with a fan is quite common…'

»I've never seen anyone fight with a fan,« Ying yue interjected skeptically. The ghost spun his saber around his own axis and rushed at them. Ying yue raised Xiaodan, Zhen yan opened the umbrella with a fluid motion, the green smoke poured over the scarlet surface and flickered out boldly. The saber bounced off and threw the ghost back again. This howled furiously.

»You see?« Zhen yan raised the umbrella over his head. Then he pointed at Xiaodan: ‚Your turn!' Ying yue's grip on the sword handle tightened and Xiaodan himself trembled as if he didn't want to accept the reproach of being more useless than an umbrella. Ying yue rushed forward. There was no way to get at the ghost with physical force, so he swung his sword with such force that the ghost retreated in shock.

But it had quickly recognized Ying yue's fighting style and swung its weapon out of reach, kicking the young man back to keep his distance. Then he swung his saber so fast that Ying yue could only block the next blows. He took the opportunity to duck away from the following blow and broke through the vicious ghost's guard.

Xiaodan pierced the man's lower abdomen, and viscous, clotted, choking blood dripped from the blade. He pulled it out again, kicked the ghost backwards so that it sank to its knees, and climbed up on top of it with two nimble steps. Ying yue threw Xiaodan into the air, formed a hand sign with his index and ring finger and let the whirring sword crash like a flash into the stump of the neck. It had such force that it pulled the body to the ground and impaled it.

The man's head rolled back and forth on his hip, cursing and ranting. Without Zhen yan's protection, this fight would have been impossible to win. Just the pure, corrupted miasma alone would have forced Ying yue to the ground before he could even have fought. He grabbed the raging head. It snapped at him like a dog.

»Give, give, give, give!« He demanded incessantly. Ying yue's grip tightened and the skull cracked. Blood ran from the eyes and nose and a sweet, sour smell made him gag. Before the slimy, decomposed brain matter could ooze out of the exploding skull and run over his hands, he crumbled to dust.

The impaled body twitched, more and more violently, as if writhing in pain, but ultimately it too crumbled to dust in chunks. The sword had calmed down a bit by now. It remained in the ground, bathed in a silvery glow, as if it wanted to be looked at and admired. Ying yue rose and pulled it out of the ground. Zhen yan made his umbrella disappear again.

»How do you fight with a fan?« Ying yue asked abruptly. Zhen yan looked up and frowned.

»Until a few centuries ago, it was a remarkable technique used by the battle mages of the Kunlun sect,« he replied. ‚A few centuries or millennia ago?' I met a man named Feng Liang. If he had fought me seriously, I probably wouldn't have gotten off that lightly,« the demon mused, his gaze wandering to an event in the past. Ying yue frowned.

»According to the stories in the books, there was once devastating chaos in the Kunlun Sect that claimed hundreds of lives. After a hero, whose name is not mentioned and was erased from all records, averted the disaster, he disappeared and with him the secret knowledge of the battle mages!« Ying yue told him. Zhen yan looked at him in surprise. »His name was erased?« Zhen yan asked in dismay. Ying yue nodded.

»Apparently, his method was dubious. Even if it led to the desired result, the scholars didn't want it to spread and the hero's teachings were to be forgotten forever.« He put Xiaodan back in its sheath and let his gaze sweep over the clearing.

»We have to find a way into the mountain to locate the source,« he changed the subject. Zhen yan nodded.