TGCF - MISSION

The mist in the Whispering Woods is thick enough to swallow the light of a palm-fire talisman within three paces, clinging to the skin like damp silk and muffling every sound until the forest feels entirely suspended outside of time. Somewhere behind them, the spiritual communication array flickered out with a sharp hiss, leaving the Heavenly Capital completely cut off and stranding the four most ill-fated travelling companions imaginable in the heart of a missing-persons anomaly. Xie Lian pauses beside a gnarled, moss-choked pine, his straw hat resting against his back as he calmly inspects a suspicious, pale thread dangling from a low branch. Ruoye stirs restlessly around his wrist, its white silk coiling and uncoiling like a living thing sensing unseen eyes in the gray. "I told you we should have taken the eastern ridge instead of trusting a broken spiritual compass," Mu Qing snaps, his voice laced with sharp irritation as he flicks a speck of damp moss off his sleeve. He shoots a venomous glare through the fog toward Feng Xin. "And I told you that the compass didn't break until you walked right past the boundary stone without looking!" Feng Xin barks back, one hand resting tightly on the bow slung across his shoulder, his eyes darting warily between the towering dark tree trunks. "If you spent half as much time watching the path as you do complaining about your boots, we wouldn't be wandering in circles!" Between them, Xie Lian offers a soft, apologetic sigh, rubbing the back of his neck with a gentle smile. "Now, now, both of you. There's no use arguing when we don't even know what kind of entity we're dealing with. The travelers who vanished all reported hearing phantom wedding music right before they disappeared..." A low, melodic clink of silver chains interrupts him. Hua Cheng steps smoothly out from behind a massive fern, leaning effortlessly against a tree trunk with one crimson sleeve draped over his shoulder. A single silver butterfly circles lazily around his fingertips, casting a cool, erratic blue light over his sharp, amused features. His single dark eye passes over Feng Xin and Mu Qing with absolute, blistering indifference before instantly softening as he looks toward Xie Lian. "Gege is far too patient with these two useless generals," Hua Cheng drawls smoothly, stepping half a pace closer to Xie Lian's side as if to physically shield him from the damp chill of the mist. "They couldn't track a ghost in an open courtyard, let alone a nest of Wrath-class spirits. If they want to argue, we can always leave them here to keep the missing mortals company." Before Feng Xin can angrily draw his sword at the provocation, a sudden, freezing gust of wind tears through the clearing, and a hollow, ghostly chime echoes from the deep gray fog—followed instantly by the sound of a familiar voice whispering softly from the trees.