Shu Chiu kicked the door of the modest building down in an action that was becoming regrettably familiar. The crack of wood and complimentary snap of pig iron hinges flying off the frame broke the stillness of the village.

At this time of year, farming communities like this, and all those they had razed so far, tended to slow down as there was little one could do so early when lamplight was a luxury.

Brazenly entering, Shu Chiu made her way to the master bedroom determined to complete her gruesome task.

She despised herself for culling the mortals but proceeded despite her qualms.

Just days ago, when Shu Chiu was still naïve, she had left this part of the mission to the degenerates that had been integrated into their squad.

Ever since, she had regretted not stopping the villains from butchering the inhabitants of each village with glee. At least she could offer their targets a quick and painless death.

Similar discontent had been spreading amongst her juniors; it was obvious to all of them that the foreign cultivators were demonic. The Yellow Autumn Sect was not, and yet they were undoubtedly cooperating with unsavory actors.

All those who had protested their fellows criticisms or otherwise defended the sect’s reputation had immediately fallen silent after the first massacre.

Shu Chiu struggled to understand why her orders forced her to cooperate with such evil cultivators.

She hated how the crazy bitch that forced her to say ‘senior sister’ bathed in fresh blood.

How their leader was a rapist.

How the weakest among them was allowed free reign to club children for sport.

She would clear this village without them, for the sake of her conscience.

Shu Chiu threw open the door to the bedroom, ready to strike, only to find it empty. Turning on her heel, she ran through the rest of the tiny house without restraint.

Empty.

Soon after she began receiving reports of the same event transpiring throughout the entire village.

“Could the Misty Cradle Sect have evacuated them?” asked one of her subordinates, Ju Hao, she thought.

“No,” Shu Chiu stated, her perplexion coloring her tone. “We should have reestablished the Haunted Iridian Mist Formation by now. They couldn’t have broken through it again so soon.”

As if summoned by her declaration, mist began seeping through the side streets to quickly cover the ground. The lack of reaction from the demonic bone talisman on her neck told Shu Chiu that its origin was not friendly.

“Form up!” Shu Chiu ordered, her juniors complying instantly.

They stood back to back waiting for an attack that never came. Palpable tension made the disciples breathe heavy despite their Qi keeping any inkling of fatigue from emerging.

The mist thickened gradually, coalescing into dew against their motionless forms.

It made Shu Chiu feel clammy and cold, like a corpse propped up to scare crows off a farmer’s field in the early morning.

Minutes passed, and still nothing. Shu Chiu took a step forward, keeping her guard raised.

“We’re leaving,” she announced quietly, leading her trope to shuffle down the main road. They’d only made it a few steps when a window opened, only to be blasted with fire.

A pregnant stillness overtook them, Qi surging through their bodies like a spring flood as they waited for an aggressor to react.

Nothing happened, save for the fire gradually consuming the hovel it had been loosed upon with a slow crackling. Even that died quickly, overtaken by the moisture in the air.

When she walked over to the smoking ruin Shu Chiu found it empty. The door, still standing despite her attack, creaked in ridicule.

Whoever had been inside might have been gone, but before vanishing they had apparently tossed a sack onto the ground. One of the other disciples kicked it, proving it inert.

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As the mysterious package rolled to a stop by the feet of Ju Hao, the young man bent over to retrieve it. He weighed it with a questioning look.

“Open it,” Shu Chiu instructed, curious as to its contents. The boy untied the knot and pulled free the contents, only to find himself face to face with a disembodied head.

He dropped it the same instant recognition appeared in his eyes.

Flat eyes gazed at Shu Chiu from the ground, aggrieved. Belatedly she realized they were one disciple short.

Cursing, she urged everyone into a run, knowing they had to get out of the ambush.

Fearing archers on the main road, the group ducked into the gaps between houses where they could use the walls to their advantage. Their feet thrummed across the dirt with muffled impacts, the mist at some point having risen to waist height.

Shu Chiu felt her heart hammering in her chest in a way she hadn’t in years.

She was in the 9th stage of Qi Condensation, which meant it wasn’t pumping out of exertion.

The only feasible cause was fear.

Shu Chiu was afraid.

Only a few steps ahead of her, young Ju Hao dropped into the mist with a shriek. She stopped her next step forcefully. The missing boy’s cries went silent a moment later.

A burst of Qi from her sleeve temporarily dissipated the mist long enough for the remaining disciples to see a pit trap filled with wooden spikes and the remains of their friend.

One of those behind Shu Chiu vomited.

“Go back!” she exclaimed, leaving behind her companions in her rush to escape.

The mist buried each of them up to their chest now.

Shu Chiu reached out with her divine sense only to blanch further. There was no one out there.

She didn’t understand what was happening.

Arrows whistled through the air slowly, as if fired by a mortal. It was a simple matter for her to sidestep them, the evasion more instinct than decision.

When a disciple fell behind her, Shu Chiu realized she hadn’t been the target but merely a means to obstruct the real victim’s vision.

The mist was choking now, up to her neck and raw as winter’s kiss. Shu Chiu’s sweat might as well have been crystalizing.

She let loose a bellow and sent wind Qi streaming through the surrounding buildings, sharp enough to dismember any foe caught in its path.

Again, nothing happened.

Shu Chiu glanced back and realized she had lost her juniors in the throes of panic. When she retraced her steps, corpses greeted her.

Pulling a lifesaving talisman out of her belt, Shu Chiu tore the paper resolutely.

The wind picked up and her body became lighter. Dashing forward, she dodged more arrows easily.

Continuous bursts of Qi allowed her to dispel the mist by her feet long enough to check the ground for more traps. In this way she maneuvered through the village, guilty for leaving her companions to their fate but unhesitating in her abandonment.

By the time she set foot on the steep path back into the forest she had crept out from merely an hour ago, the mist was all consuming.

Then there were whispers. Instinctually lashing out towards them, Shu Chiu only scanned her surroundings with her divine sense as an afterthought. As if alive, the mist pushed back. Her pupils shrank.

“Traitors!” she spat. With rage she blamed the only obvious culprits, “You dare turn the formation meant for the Misty Cloud Sect against your ally?!”

A chuckle resounded, and Shu Chiu met it with a vicious expulsion of Qi.

“We thought integrating facets of your formation into our own arts would be poetic,” said a man from a different angle, unperturbed by her attack.

With pupils like pin heads, she spun to find a Misty Cradle Sect disciple behind her.

“You!” she hissed. Of course it would be him. The only one worthy of recognition. “You’re the one who always knew we were coming.”

The nameless disciple tilted his head at her accusation. A taunt, she was sure.

Those demonic bastards had called her a coward, repeatedly stating there was no way a piddling Qi Condensation cultivator had overcome their stealth talismans.

Shu Chiu knew they were wrong. The bastard had scared off every single one of their attempted assaults unerringly.

Without him, she might not have had to deal with following the orders of a fiend.

“It’s all your fault,” she whined, her crazed eyes scanning the mist for others. Buying time, she continued, “They didn’t believe me, but here you are.”

Her eyes fluttered around relentlessly. There had to be an escape.

A step forward and- her body was numb. So cold.

“My name is Zhao Mi,” the disciple from the rival sect said, bowing. Shu Chiu recognized the custom for what it was.

Barking out a laugh she responded with her own name as she prepared for a duel to the death.

Then a blow hit her in the back of the head, sending her into the muck. Shu Chiu lost her breath from the audacity of the betrayal of tradition.

“Sorry,” apologized the deceiver, “I can’t afford to take any chances.” A needle pierced her neck as he spoke, and Shu Chiu felt poison flood her veins.

She heard conversation over her, blurred by whatever drug circulated through her system. The world spun, shadows elongating and the light playing tricks on her eyes.

The damned Misty Cradle Sect disciple was looming over her, staring down at her with pity. But there was another emotion hidden beneath, she noted.

Before their cursed expedition Shu Chiu would never have noticed it. The edge to him.

Behind his empathetic veneer festered the same wrath that she had recently grown to resent in her accomplices.

It was no wonder the man had caught their every attempt to attack.

He was another demon.