The sound of bamboo poles striking the ground echoed through the mist, appearing and disappearing, near and far, making it impossible to determine its source or direction. The eerie, abrupt noise sent shivers down the spines of those present, their imaginations running wild with what could be producing such an unsettling sound in this fog-shrouded city.

Wei Wuxian's voice cut through the tension, steady and commanding. "Everyone, gather close. Don't move around, and keep your swords sheathed." His eyes scanned the impenetrable white veil surrounding them, knowing that in such conditions, a group of inexperienced cultivators swinging their swords wildly could easily harm their own comrades rather than any potential threat.

As if responding to his words, the mysterious sound abruptly ceased. The sudden silence was almost more unnerving than the noise had been. After what felt like an eternity but was likely only a few moments, one of the young disciples from a prominent clan family whispered, his voice trembling, "It's that thing again... How long is it going to follow us?"

Wei Wuxian's interest was piqued. "It's been following you?" he asked, his tone a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Lan Sizhui, his face barely visible in the thick mist, nodded. "Ever since we entered the city. The fog was so dense we were afraid of getting separated, so we stayed together. That's when we first heard the sound." He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. "At first, it was slower, more methodical. Thump... thump... thump. And through the mist, we caught a glimpse of a small, shadowy figure walking by. We tried to chase it, but it vanished. Since then, the sound has been following us relentlessly."

"How small are we talking?" Wei Wuxian pressed, his mind already racing through possibilities.

Lan Sizhui gestured to his chest area. "Very short, and thin too. Like a child, but... not quite."

Wei Wuxian's brow furrowed. "And how long have you been in the city?"

"About half an incense stick's time," Lan Sizhui replied.

Turning to the silent figure beside him, Wei Wuxian asked, "Lan Zhan, how long have we been here?"

Lan Wangji's cool voice drifted from the mist. "Nearly a full incense stick."

Wei Wuxian's eyes narrowed. "You see," he said, addressing the group, "we've been here longer than you, yet somehow you ended up ahead of us. Did you double back without realizing it?"

Jin Ling, unable to contain himself any longer, interjected, "But we didn't! We've been moving forward on this road the entire time."

A heavy silence fell over the group as the implications of this sank in. If everyone had been moving forward, how had their paths crossed? Had the road itself been tampered with, transformed into some kind of looping maze?

Wei Wuxian broke the silence. "Did anyone try flying up to get a better view?"

Lan Sizhui nodded. "I did. I felt like I flew quite high, but in reality, I barely gained any altitude. And there were these... indistinct black shadows moving through the air. I couldn't identify them, and fearing I might not be able to handle whatever they were, I descended."

The atmosphere grew tenser as everyone processed this information. The mist that shrouded Yi City was infamous, but they had initially dismissed it as a natural phenomenon. Now, it seemed clear that this was no ordinary fog, but a supernatural miasma.

Lan Jingyi's voice quavered as he asked, "You don't think this mist is poisonous, do you?"

Wei Wuxian shook his head, though the gesture was lost in the fog. "Probably not. We've all been breathing it for quite some time, and we're still alive."

Jin Ling grumbled, "If I had known it would be like this, I would have brought Fairy. It's all because of that stupid donkey of yours."

Wei Wuxian felt a chill run down his spine at the mention of the dog, but before he could respond, Lan Jingyi retorted, "We haven't even mentioned your dog yet! It attacked first, and Little Apple kicked it in self-defense. Whose fault is that? Now neither of them can move properly."

Wei Wuxian's eyes widened in shock. "What?! My Little Apple was bitten by a dog?!"

Jin Ling bristled. "How can you compare that donkey to my spiritual dog? Fairy was a gift from my uncle. If anything happens to her, a thousand donkeys wouldn't be enough compensation!"

Wei Wuxian, never one to back down from a verbal sparring match, quickly fabricated a retort. "Don't try to impress us with the Glamor of Nie. My Little Apple was a gift from Hanguang-Jun himself. How could you take him down the mountain for night hunting and let him get injured?!"

The young Lan disciples chorused in disbelief, "That's a lie!" They refused to believe that someone with Lan Wangji's refined taste would choose such a mount as a gift, even if the man himself didn't contradict the claim.

As the bickering continued, Wei Wuxian suddenly realized that the mist around them had thickened, muffling the sounds of their voices. An uneasy feeling settled in his stomach.

"Is everyone still here?" he called out.

A chorus of muffled "Mmm" and "Mhm" sounds responded, indicating that the group was still intact. Lan Wangji's cool voice cut through the fog. "Silence."

In an instant, all voices were silenced, as if by magic. Wei Wuxian couldn't help but touch his own lips, feeling a mix of awe and relief that he hadn't been affected.

Just then, footsteps echoed from the left, slow and ponderous. Before anyone could react, similar sounds began emanating from all directions – front, right, sides, and behind. Though the mist was too thick to see clearly, the putrid stench of decay wafted towards them.

Wei Wuxian, normally unperturbed by mere walking corpses, let out a low whistle, its ending note rising in a clear command to retreat. The footsteps in the mist faltered for a moment.

But then, to everyone's shock, the corpses surged forward with renewed vigor!

Wei Wuxian was stunned. His command should have driven them away, not incited them. He was absolutely certain he hadn't mixed up the "retreat" and "attack" signals.

There was no time to ponder this anomaly. Seven or eight misshapen figures emerged from the white mist. Given the density of the fog in Yi City, the fact that their silhouettes were visible meant they were dangerously close.

Suddenly, the icy blue glow of Bichen cut through the mist, encircling the group. With lightning speed, it sliced through the walking corpses, bisecting them at the waist before returning to its sheath. Wei Wuxian let out a sigh of relief, but Lan Wangji's low voice cut through the moment of reprieve. "Why?"

Wei Wuxian understood the unspoken question. "I don't know why my whistle command didn't work on these corpses. They're slow-moving and reek of decay, clearly not high-level fierce corpses. I should be able to scare them off with a simple clap of my hands. If my whistle suddenly lost its power, that's impossible too – it doesn't rely on spiritual energy. This has never happened before..."

As he spoke, a chill ran down his spine as he realized something. No, that wasn't entirely true. There was one type of fierce corpse or evil spirit that he couldn't control.

Those already under the control of the Yin Tiger Seal.

As this realization dawned on him, the situation suddenly became far more ominous. The mist, the uncontrollable corpses, the looping paths – could it all be connected to the seal he had created and destroyed?

Lan Sizhui's voice, now free from Lan Wangji's silencing spell, cut through Wei Wuxian's thoughts. "Hanguang-Jun, is the situation dangerous? Should we try to leave the city immediately?"

"But the fog is so thick," another disciple added, "and we can't seem to find our way. We can't even fly out..."

"I think more walking corpses are coming!" a panicked voice called out.

"Where? I don't hear any footsteps," someone else responded.

"I... I think I hear strange breathing sounds..." The young disciple who spoke immediately realized how ridiculous that sounded and fell silent, embarrassed.

Another disciple scoffed, "Are you serious? Breathing sounds? Corpses are dead, they don't breathe."

Before anyone could respond, a large figure suddenly loomed out of the mist, charging towards them. Bichen flashed out once more, cleanly separating the figure's head from its body. As it fell, a strange sound, like liquid being splashed, filled the air. Several of the younger disciples cried out in alarm.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Wei Wuxian, concerned they might be injured, called out, "What happened?"

Lan Jingyi, his voice strained, replied, "The corpse... it sprayed something when it was cut. Some kind of powder. It's bitter and sweet at the same time, and it smells awful!" He spat repeatedly, having unfortunately opened his mouth at the wrong moment and ingested some of the mysterious substance.

Wei Wuxian's concern deepened. Whatever had been expelled from the corpse could be extremely dangerous. "Everyone, move away from that area immediately! Lan Jingyi, come over here so I can check on you."

"Alright," Lan Jingyi responded hesitantly, "but I can't see you. Where are you?"

The impenetrable mist made movement treacherous. Wei Wuxian, remembering how Bichen's light had pierced the fog earlier, turned to where he thought Lan Wangji was standing. "Lan Zhan, could you unsheath your sword for a moment? To guide him over."

There was no response from beside him, no movement.

Suddenly, about seven paces away, a clear, icy blue sword light cut through the mist.

Wei Wuxian froze. If Lan Wangji was over there, then who was the silent figure that had been standing next to him this whole time?

Before he could react, a face loomed out of the darkness before him. It was a face shrouded in a thick, black mist, barely recognizable as human.

The mist-faced figure lunged forward, grasping for the Qiankun pouch hanging at Wei Wuxian's waist. Its hand closed around the pouch, but suddenly, the bag swelled and burst. Three writhing, hate-filled evil spirits exploded out, assailing the mysterious attacker.

Wei Wuxian, despite the shock and danger of the situation, couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Were you trying to steal my evil-sealing pouch? Your eyesight must be terrible in this mist – that's my spirit-locking bag!"

Ever since their encounter at the Changs' burial ground in Yueyang, where they thwarted a grave robber's attempt to steal a recently unearthed corpse, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji had been on high alert. They suspected the robber wouldn't give up easily and might strike again at any moment. Their vigilance proved warranted as they entered Yi City, where the grave robber saw an opportunity to strike under the cover of thick fog and the chaos of crowded streets.

The robber's plan seemed to succeed initially, but Wei Wuxian had anticipated such a move. He had cleverly switched the Qiankun pouch containing the left arm with a spirit-locking bag. As the robber grasped his prize, Wei Wuxian couldn't help but smirk at the impending surprise.

A sharp "zing" cut through the air as the robber leaped backward, drawing his sword. Immediately after, the anguished screams of malevolent spirits filled the misty air, seemingly scattered by the robber's blade. Wei Wuxian thought to himself, "As expected, he's quite skilled." Then, he called out loudly, "Lan Zhan, the grave robber is here!"

There was no need for the warning; Lan Wangji had already sensed the sudden change. Without a word, Bichen responded, its icy blue glow cutting through the mist with lethal precision.

The situation was far from ideal. The grave robber's sword was shrouded in a layer of black mist, concealing its glow and making it nearly invisible in the white fog. In contrast, Lan Wangji's Bichen shone brightly, impossible to hide. This put Lan Wangji at a disadvantage – exposed while his opponent remained hidden. Moreover, the grave robber seemed familiar with Gusu Lan sect's sword techniques, and his high level of cultivation was evident.

The fog presented another challenge. While the robber could strike indiscriminately, Lan Wangji had to be cautious not to harm his allies. Wei Wuxian listened intently to the clashing of blades, his heart tightening with each sound. Unable to contain his concern, he called out, "Lan Zhan? Are you hurt?"

A muffled grunt came from the distance, suggesting someone had been injured in a vital spot. But the voice clearly wasn't Lan Wangji's.

"Impossible," came Lan Wangji's calm reply.

Wei Wuxian chuckled, "Of course!"

The robber seemed to let out a cold laugh before engaging in battle once more. The glow of Bichen and the sounds of clashing swords grew more distant. Wei Wuxian realized Lan Wangji was deliberately leading the fight away to protect the others. This left Wei Wuxian to handle the remaining situation.

Turning to the group, Wei Wuxian asked, "How are those who inhaled the powder?"

Lan Sizhui's worried voice replied, "They're having trouble standing!"

"Gather in the center and count off," Wei Wuxian instructed.

Fortunately, with one wave of walking corpses dealt with and the grave robber led away, no other immediate threats presented themselves. Even the eerie sound of bamboo poles striking the ground had ceased. The remaining disciples huddled together, counting off. To their relief, no one was missing.

Wei Wuxian approached Lan Jingyi, feeling his forehead. It was warm with fever. He checked the other young disciples who had inhaled the corpse powder, finding them in a similar state. Lifting Lan Jingyi's eyelid, he said, "Stick out your tongue. Ah."

Lan Jingyi complied, "Ah."

Wei Wuxian nodded, "Congratulations, you've been poisoned by corpse venom."

Jin Ling exclaimed, "What's there to congratulate about?!"

"It's a life experience," Wei Wuxian replied nonchalantly. "Something to talk about when you're old."

Corpse venom usually resulted from being scratched or bitten by a transformed corpse, or from wounds contaminated by their decaying blood. Cultivators rarely allowed walking corpses to get close enough for such injuries, and few carried antidotes for corpse venom. Lan Sizhui, his voice filled with concern, asked, "Senior Mo, will they be alright?"

Wei Wuxian's casual tone belied the seriousness of the situation. "They're fine for now, but once the poison spreads through their blood and reaches their hearts, it'll be too late."

"What... what will happen then?" Lan Sizhui pressed.

"They'll become like the corpses," Wei Wuxian explained, his voice taking on a theatrical tone. "Best case scenario, they'll rot and stink. Worst case, they'll turn into hairy rigid corpses, forced to hop around for the rest of their existence."

The poisoned disciples collectively gasped in horror.

"You want to be cured, right?" Wei Wuxian asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

They nodded vigorously.

"Then listen carefully," he continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "From now on, you all need to obey my every word. Every single one of you."

Although many of the young disciples didn't know Wei Wuxian, they saw how he interacted with Lan Wangji as an equal, even calling him by his birth name. Coupled with their current predicament – trapped in a city shrouded in demonic fog, poisoned and feverish – they instinctively sought someone to rely on. Wei Wuxian's confident demeanor, despite the dire circumstances, drew them in. They found themselves nodding in agreement.

"Whatever I tell you to do, you do it. No objections. Understood?" Wei Wuxian pressed, pushing his newfound authority.

"Understood!" they chorused.

Clapping his hands, Wei Wuxian instructed, "Alright, everyone up. Those who aren't poisoned, carry those who are. Preferably on your backs. If you must carry them horizontally, keep their heads and hearts elevated."

Lan Jingyi protested, "But I can walk. Why do I need to be carried?"

"Listen, brother," Wei Wuxian explained patiently, "if you're up and about, your blood will flow faster, spreading the poison quicker. You need to move as little as possible, preferably not at all."

The poisoned disciples immediately stiffened like boards, allowing their companions to hoist them onto their backs. One disciple, being carried by his sect-mate, mumbled, "That corpse that sprayed the poison... it really was breathing."

His carrier, panting under the weight, grumbled, "I told you, if it's breathing, it's not a corpse – it's alive."

"Senior Mo," Lan Sizhui called out, "we're ready. Where are we going?"

Wei Wuxian smiled at Lan Sizhui's obedience. "We can't leave the city yet. We're going to knock on doors."

"What doors?" Jin Ling asked, confusion evident in his voice.

Wei Wuxian pondered for a moment. "Besides houses, what else has doors?"

Jin Ling's eyes widened in disbelief. "You want us to enter these houses? It's already dangerous enough out here. Who knows what might be lurking inside, waiting for us?"

His words sent a chill through the group. Suddenly, they all felt as if countless eyes were watching them from behind the fog and within the houses, observing their every move. Wei Wuxian, however, remained unfazed.

"You're not wrong," he admitted. "It's hard to say whether it's more dangerous out here or in there. But given how bad it is out here, how much worse could it be inside? Come on, we don't have time to waste. We need to cure that poison."

Reluctantly, the group followed Wei Wuxian's instructions. They formed a line, each person holding onto the scabbard of the person in front of them to avoid getting separated in the thick fog. They moved from house to house, knocking on doors.

After knocking forcefully on one door for a while without response, Jin Ling said, "This house seems empty. Let's go in."

Wei Wuxian's voice drifted from somewhere in the fog. "Who said to enter empty houses? Keep knocking. We're looking for houses with people inside."

"You want to find occupied houses?" Jin Ling asked incredulously.

"That's right," Wei Wuxian confirmed. "And knock properly. You were too forceful earlier, it's impolite."

Jin Ling nearly kicked the wooden door in frustration but managed to restrain himself, settling for stomping his foot on the ground instead.

Every house along the street had its doors tightly shut, unresponsive to their knocking. As they continued, Jin Ling's knocks grew less aggressive, while Lan Sizhui maintained his calm demeanor. At the thirteenth shop, Lan Sizhui repeated the phrase he had been using: "Is anyone there?"

Suddenly, the door moved slightly. A thin black crack appeared as it opened a fraction.

The interior was pitch black, making it impossible to see what lay beyond the narrow opening. The person who opened the door remained silent. The disciples nearest to the door instinctively took a small step back.

Lan Sizhui steadied himself and asked, "Are you the shop owner?"

After a long pause, an old, strange voice leaked out from the crack: "Yes."

Wei Wuxian approached, patting Lan Sizhui's shoulder to signal him to step back. "Shop owner," he said politely, "we're new to your esteemed city. The fog is so thick we've lost our way and have been walking for a long time. We're quite tired. Would it be possible for us to rest in your shop for a while?"

The strange voice replied, "My shop is not for resting."

Wei Wuxian, seemingly unfazed by the odd response, continued in a casual tone, "But there are no other shops open in the area. Surely you could make an exception? We would compensate you generously."

Jin Ling couldn't help but interject, "Where are you getting money to compensate? Just to be clear, I'm not lending you any."

Wei Wuxian dangled an elegant small purse in front of Jin Ling's eyes. "Look, what's this?" Lan Jingyi exclaimed in shock, "You're too daring! That belongs to Hanguang-Jun!"

As they argued, the door opened a bit wider. Though the interior remained obscured, they could now see an old woman with gray hair and an expressionless face standing behind the door. Despite her hunched posture and apparent age, her face bore relatively few wrinkles and age spots, making her look more like a middle-aged woman than an elderly one.

The woman stepped aside, silently inviting them in.

Jin Ling whispered in disbelief, "She's actually letting us in?"

Wei Wuxian whispered back, "Of course. I had my foot wedged in the doorway. She couldn't close it if she wanted to. If she hadn't let us in, I was about to kick the door down."

Jin Ling was left speechless.

The disciples, though extremely reluctant to enter such a suspicious place, realized they had no other choice. With trepidation, they carried their poisoned companions into the shop. The old woman watched them with cold eyes, immediately closing the door behind them, plunging the room into pitch darkness.

"Why don't you light a lamp, shop owner?" Wei Wuxian asked.

The old woman's voice came from the darkness. "The lamp is on the table. Light it yourself."

Lan Sizhui, who happened to be standing near a table, carefully felt around until he found an oil lamp covered in years of dust. He produced a fire talisman, lit it, and brought it close to the lamp's wick. As he raised his eyes, a chill ran from his feet to the top of his head, his scalp tingling with shock.

The main room of the shop was packed wall to wall with people, shoulder to shoulder, their eyes wide open, staring unblinkingly at the group!