The sixth outpost was right in front of them. Half-shrouded by creeping vines and ancient trees, it stood silent and weathered — a forgotten fragment of history now found. The stone structure loomed like a sleeping giant, bearing the marks of time and abandonment.
They had found the path. Tian Lian stepped forward, unfurling the worn map in his hands. With a sharp stroke of her pen, she circled the exact location — coordinates confirmed, trail marked, task completed. That was the mission.
"Done," she said quietly, more to herself than the others.
But the light was fading fast. Shadows stretched longer with every passing second, and the forest behind them was beginning to hum with the eerie sounds of nightfall.
The instruction was clear — locate the outpost and return before night fell.
Fan Tuo checked the sky. "We don't have much time."
"We never do," Bo Jian replied, already turning back.
But then — something shifted.
A low grunt echoed from the trees, rough and wet, like gravel dragged over bone. Leaves rustled, but not from wind. Then came the eyes. Dozens of them. Not quite beast, not quite human. Watching.
Still.
Waiting.
The temperature dropped unnaturally fast. Lu Chen caught his breath — and saw it. His exhale hung in the air, a pale white cloud that didn't drift but curled unnaturally, clinging to the space like it had a will of its own.
"Mist," he muttered.
Ke Zhen was already on edge. His blades were half-drawn, senses sharpened. "The path," he said, low and quick. "It's starting to blur. The road we came through — it's not the same."
Tian Lian cursed under her breath and pulled out a fresh talisman. "They're warping the forest. We have to move. Now."
The eyes didn't blink. The grunting got louder.
And the mist… thickened.
The toads around the area were getting louder. Their croaks overlapped in a dissonant chorus, echoing between the trees like a war drum — low, guttural, relentless.
Tian Lian froze. "That sound—"
"Bad omen," Bo Jian said flatly. He raised his shield instinctively.
Then it began.
A sharp crack tore through the air — not from a branch, but something small and fast slicing through leaves. Then another. And another. Pebbles.
Tiny. But unnaturally fast.
The first struck Fan Tuo's shoulder with a violent thud, sending him stumbling sideways with a hiss of pain.
"Ambush!" Ke Zhen barked.
The second barrage came from the opposite side — no flash of movement, just the sudden sting of impact and the eerie, precise rhythm of an attack without a visible attacker.
Lu Chen dove low behind a fallen log, his hand already slipping to his side blade. "It's not random. They're herding us."
The forest trembled with the force of unseen movement, as if dozens of creatures were pressing in at once.
The sixth outpost was within sight — just beyond the thinning trees, the faint shimmer of the half-formed warding formation flickered, unstable but there.
Fan Tuo glanced at the others, clutching his bruised shoulder. "We push forward, we might not make it out if the formation fails."
Bo Jian's eyes were locked on the misted treeline behind them. "If we run now, we make it back to the gate. That was the instruction."
"But we leave this place open," Tian Lian said grimly. "The route's been marked. If we don't hold it, others might walk into something worse tomorrow."
Ke Zhen's expression darkened. "You know what they say about the outposts at night. Especially this one."
The forest groaned as if something deep inside it was waking up. The toads were still croaking — faster now, like a ticking clock.
Mist was creeping in again, curling around their ankles.
Bo Jian cursed under his breath. "Damn it, we don't have time to argue."
"We hold," Tian Lian said. "Outpost is the closest cover. Warding Barrier was unstable, but we can anchor it."
They all knew what that meant.
Fan Tuo took a deep breath and nodded. "Then we do it fast."
They broke into a run.
Just before they reached the boundary of the outpost, a sharp whistle cut through the croaking of toads. A pulse. Then—
Boom.
The rear line exploded in shouts.
"They're here!"
A flash of dark violet tore through the mist. Shadows twisted unnaturally, and from them stepped a figure cloaked in flowing, ink-black robes. Their presence rippled through the forest like a cold wave — the Shadow Mage.
They hadn't followed.
They had been waiting.
With a flick of the mage's hand, threads of night coiled into shape — Magic Missiles. But these weren't ordinary. They hissed through the air, shaped like tiny skulls, screaming silently as they cut across the field, eyes glowing dimly with eerie intelligence.
They weren't just aimed.
They were hunting.
Fan Tuo's eyes widened. "They're targeting the healer!"
The missiles twisted mid-air, adjusting course around cover — intelligent, guided.
Bo Jian moved without thinking, blades flashing in the haze. He slashed at two, the impact throwing him backward. The skulls shattered on impact, but not before the magic bit deep into his shoulder, ripping through part of his armour with searing heat.
The remaining missiles curled away from Bo Jian — and locked back onto the healer, Mei Lin, who was sprinting toward the outpost with the ward crystal clutched to her chest.
"Mei Lin—move!" Ke Zhen shouted.
She didn't hesitate. Her boots pounded the forest floor, breath sharp in her throat. The flicker of skull-shaped flame twisted through the trees behind her, impossibly fast, impossibly alive.
The missiles screamed.
Not with sound, but with thought — like a curse whispering straight to the soul.
Lu Chen flung a dagger at a branch overhead — it snapped, falling just in time to tangle two of the pursuing missiles.
But one got through.
It caught her. Just barely.
A sting — like icy fire along her shoulder blade.
Mei Lin gasped but didn't stop. She crossed the threshold of the sixth outpost, the unfinished ward groaning to life as she passed.
The arcane shield flickered — pale blue, crackling — and two of the remaining missiles struck it head-on, exploding into bursts of violet flame just inches behind her.
The last one curved up, smart — too smart.
It dived.
Bo Jian was already moving. He caught her by the back of her robe, yanked her down, and threw his sword up with a grunt.
Crack.
The blade shattered. The missile veered — and burst against the ward's unstable shell, throwing sparks into the dirt.
Mei Lin lay on the ground, clutching her shoulder. Her robe was torn, blood seeping through the edges — but she was alive.
Bo Jian knelt beside her, chest heaving.
Ke Zhen called out, "The ward's still syncing. It's not sealed!"
"The mage is close," Fan Tuo added, scanning the treeline, the gathering fog.
Mei Lin winced, pressing a glowing hand to her shoulder. "Just—buy me some time," she said through gritted teeth. "I'll activate the ward. It's not stable yet."
Bo Jian nodded without hesitation, rising to his feet. "You heard her."
From the mist beyond the flickering ward line, the forest parted.
Two figures stepped out.
Not running. Not hiding.
Walking.
Each over two meters tall, swathed in shifting shadow like a second skin. One carried an axe longer than Fan Tuo was tall. The other, a war hammer, dented and cracked like it had smashed through a dozen shields.
Their eyes gleamed dimly — not red, not white. Something darker. As if they weren't eyes at all, but holes punched through the world.
"The Shadow Warriors," Ke Zhen whispered, voice suddenly dry. "They're not supposed to leave the inner circle."
The warriors didn't speak. They didn't need to. Their silence was louder than any war cry — steady, inevitable. They moved like ghosts given weight, their feet barely touching the ground.
One raised its axe and pointed — not at Bo Jian. Not at Fan Tuo.
At Mei Lin.
A rain of magic missiles erupted from the treetops, screaming down like falling stars, all of them locked onto Mei Lin's position.
Bo Jian's eyes widened. "Shield up!"
With a surge of qi, he stomped the ground and threw his hand forward. A circular barrier shimmered into existence above them, domed and tight, golden veins pulsing from his core into the sky.
The first wave hit.
The barrier shuddered, runes flashing violently.
Tian Lian was already moving, planting her spear and chanting under her breath. Her spell spread out like a lattice, reinforcing Bo Jian's structure with crystalline patterns that locked in with his aura.
Fan Tuo didn't speak — he threw a talisman into the air, where it burned and released a flickering wall of blue, adding another layer to the barrier. The structure groaned but held.
"Mei Lin, how long?" Tian Lian called, sweat beading on her temple.
"Two more lines," Mei Lin said, eyes locked on the ward she was inscribing. Her voice was shaking, but her hands weren't. "Just hold it. Just a bit more."
The magic missiles didn't stop. They weren't like normal spells — they adapted, swerving and hammering with near-sentience, trying to exploit weaknesses in the barrier.
Outside, the two Shadow Warriors were approaching with silent menace, their weapons dragging slightly through the dirt, carving long trails.
Just as the barrier held steady under the barrage of magic missiles, a new disturbance rippled through the air.
Three shadowy figures—tall and lithe, cloaked in inky blackness—darted from the treeline. Their movements were too swift, too fluid, like living shadows slithering through the air, barely leaving a trace.
Shadow Assassins.
They dove, with no sound, into the heart of the barrier.
"Behind!" Ke Zhen shouted, his voice low but urgent. He was already moving, his blades drawn, but it was too late.
The assassins moved with unnatural speed, gliding past the shield as though it were nothing more than mist. They flowed through the magical barrier, weaving through the light distortion like ripples on water, their dark forms a stark contrast against the glow of the ward. Tian Lian and Bo Jian couldn't react fast enough, their bodies frozen by the sheer concentration needed to maintain the barrier. Every muscle screamed in protest, every ounce of their energy funneled into holding the line.
The first assassin, a silent wraith, materialized directly in front of Mei Lin, the healer's eyes widening in horror. It was too close. She had no time to react.
His grip tightened on his sword, and with a swift motion, he swept the blade downward, aiming to sever the assassin's arm. But the assassin was quick, ducking under the strike and slipping back into the shadows, a blur of movement too fast for the eye to follow.
Then the second assassin struck—darting from the shadows like a coiled viper unleashed. Before the blade could taste flesh, Lu Chen appeared out of nowhere, his form a blur of motion. With a precise slash, he intercepted the assassin's path, his blade meeting the assassin's dagger with a resounding clang. The shock reverberated through the air, but before anyone could react further, the assassin dashed back into the shadows, vanishing with eerie speed.
Then came the third.
Ke Zhen caught the flicker of movement just in time. His gaze sharpened, instincts snapping into place. Without hesitation, he lunged forward—but it was close. Too close.
The assassin was already there—dagger drawn, a breath away from Mei Lin's throat.
With a shout, Ke Zhen slammed into the assassin, pushing it off course just enough for Mei Lin to evade the strike. The dagger still grazed her arm, and she cried out in pain, but she was alive.
"Mei Lin!" Ke Zhen barked, pulling her back with him. His gaze flicked to the assassin retreating into the shadows. "You alright?"
Mei Lin, pale and trembling from the close call, nodded, but her breath was shaky. "I—I'm fine… but it's poisoned."
She lifted her arm to show the wound, where a sickly green tint was already beginning to spread from the small cut. The poison was fast-acting, and the air around them seemed to thrum with the urgency of the situation. Her vision blurred slightly, and she staggered, but she steadied herself quickly.
"We need to end this—now," Bo Jian growled, his voice raw with strain. Sweat beaded at his temples, the effort of holding the barrier clearly taking its toll. His eyes flicked between the shifting shadows and Mei Lin's pale form. "How much longer do you need to stabilise the ward?"
Mei Lin's breath came in shallow gasps. "Just a little longer… I need time to purge the poison before it spreads further."
There was no time. The shadow assassins were still out there, waiting for their chance to strike again.
Fan Tuo stepped forward, his voice firm. "We'll hold them off. Mei Lin, finish the ward. We can't afford to let this drag on any longer."
He turned his gaze toward the treeline, where the assassins had disappeared. Lu Chen, ever vigilant, remained on alert, his blade raised, ready to intercept any attack.
Ke Zhen, still watching Mei Lin, knew what they were up against. Every moment was crucial. "We can't let the poison take hold of you," he muttered to Mei Lin. "If you can't purge it, we'll have to get you out of here."
Mei Lin nodded weakly, a grim determination on her face. She was the last line of defense. Without her, they would fall. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath, focusing every ounce of her energy into the ward, willing it to strengthen despite the poison coursing through her veins.
The air buzzed around them, thick with tension. Time was slipping away. The poison had begun to cloud Mei Lin's thoughts, and darkness crept along the edges of her vision. Her hands trembled, her sight still blurred from the lingering effects.
Lu Chen dropped to her side, channelling a steady pulse of Qi into her body to slow the poison's spread—just as he had once guided the wild flow of energy from the spirit stone into the orb. The pressure in the air deepened, as if the world itself held its breath.
For a moment, the poison resisted—twisting through her veins like smoke—but then its grip began to ease. Clarity returned. Her vision cleared, and with a focused breath, she gathered her energy. The ward barrier flickered back to life, though it trembled with instability, still weakened by the earlier disruptions.
For a brief moment, the team was granted a shred of relief. The oppressive tension in the air lessened slightly, as if the storm had paused. Bo Jian and Tian Lian moved swiftly toward Mei Lin, their gazes locked on her condition.
"Mei Lin, how are you holding up?" Bo Jian's voice was soft but urgent, his eyes scanning her with concern. His energy was low from maintaining the barrier, but his attention was entirely on her now.
Tian Lian knelt beside Mei Lin, her hands hovering near her, "We need to reinforce the ward. Can you hold it much longer?"
Mei Lin took a shallow breath, her fingers tightening around the focus stone. "I can hold it," she said, though her voice betrayed a hint of exhaustion.
Lu Chen pressed a vial of antidote into her palm.
"Drink this," he said, his voice calm but urgent.
She didn't hesitate, swallowing the antidote in one swift motion.
The poison had been purged, but the toll it had taken on her body was evident. Her forehead glistened with sweat, and her hands trembled slightly. "I just need more time…"
The shadow warriors advanced, their massive forms closing in on the flickering barrier with terrifying determination. Each step they took shook the ground, their eyes glowing with malice. When they reached the barrier, they didn't hesitate—they attacked with sheer force, their weapons crashing against the protective shield.
With every strike, the barrier shuddered violently, the air around Mei Lin warping from the impact. Each blow reverberated through the barrier, sending painful tremors through Mei Lin's body. The strain of holding the ward, coupled with the damage from the poison, was taking its toll. Her teeth gritted, and a faint cry of pain escaped her lips as the force of the shadow warriors' strikes rippled through the protective barrier.