237: Sea of ​​Fog and Surging Waves

"What happened?" someone asked nervously.

"White-Haired People, the White-Haired People are here," someone who had encountered such a situation before observed nervously, scanning their surroundings.

"Then, what do we do now?"

"What are you scared of? There are so many of us, why would we be afraid of those beasts!" someone in the crowd shouted.

At this moment, Miao Qingshi and Tang Ping stood together at the front.

"Have you found those things?" Miao Qingshi's gaze was solemn.

"The fog is too thick, we can't see clearly at all, and these mists seem to be able to block spiritual power," Tang Ping observed the surroundings, but it wasn't without a solution.

Dozens of spiders crawled out from Tang Ping's clothes: "Tell everyone to stay put."

"Okay," Miao Qingshi instructed the crowd. The large team of nearly two hundred people immediately stopped, their eyes all fixed on the mist, which was growing thicker and thicker.

As time passed, the thick fog made it impossible to see anything beyond three meters, and some people began to feel anxious and uneasy.

"How about we just go back?"

"I don't think the leaders have any way to deal with the White-Haired People either."

"Quiet down. Are you planning to walk back by yourselves? No one is stopping you."

Those people immediately fell silent. No one was foolish; running off alone at this time would be no different from seeking death.

Suddenly, violent fluctuations came from two spots in the mist, accompanied by sharp, ape-like screeches.

"Sister Xiao Cao, act!"

Tang Ping spoke, and the blazing golden glazed fire in his hand had already blasted out.

Miao Qingshi sensed that direction, and a thick green vine shot out from the ground, striking in that direction with a huge roar that churned the mist into layers of misty waves.

The thick mist immediately thinned considerably. After the green vine landed, everyone could see what was on the ground: a mass of bloody mud mixed with white hair. About a dozen meters away, at another location, was a charred corpse nearly three meters tall. It resembled a human, but its muscles were bulging, and its hands and feet were unusually large. Seeing such a giant creature, someone asked, "How did something so big manage to approach us so silently?"

Many people were equally puzzled.

Just then, not far ahead, human screams suddenly rang out, drawing everyone's attention.

"Is there still someone who hasn't returned?"

"This person is really courting death, risking his life for a few mist grass."

"No, we haven't lost anyone here. I counted when I came, and not one is missing now!" A meticulous woman noticed the situation.

"Then, are those other herb gatherers in the mist?"

"No, it could also be the White-Haired People impersonating them. I grew up here; when I was little, I often heard my grandma say that there were mountain ghosts in the mountains that would make human sounds on foggy days to lure and eat lone travelers."

Over a hundred people discussed animatedly, and soon they had figured out most of the situation. The things in the mist seemed to understand, letting out an angry roar before disappearing. The people present looked at each other.

"That's it?" someone muttered.

At the front, the core high-ranking members of the Base all looked towards Old Man Xuanshan. If anyone here understood the White-Haired People best, it was him.

At this moment, Old Man Xuanshan's face was ashen. He looked at Miao Qingshi and Tang Ping, then finally sighed helplessly: "You two were too reckless just now; you shouldn't have killed these children of the White-Haired People."

"Children?" Hearing "children," Li Tianheng's mouth twitched. What the hell kind of children? They were already three meters tall, and still children.

"Since we've decided to occupy a core area, there's no room for soft-heartedness," Miao Qingshi said.

Old Man Xuanshan shook his head: "Of course, I don't feel pity for these White-Haired People's offspring. It's just that these races, passed down from the last era, surely possess some extraordinary foundations. It's too reckless for us to confront them head-on now. Originally, we only needed to occupy a piece of land and drive them away. The best time to deal with them would be once we've developed. But now that two White-Haired People's offspring have been killed, those things will inevitably be enraged."

Tang Ping, however, disagreed: "It's better to do it sooner rather than later. Senior, we also considered your idea, but if we keep delaying, how can we guarantee that these White-Haired People won't continue to grow?"

"As Talent Users, the further we advance, the harder it becomes to grow. The experience stones consumed number in the tens of thousands, even millions, making it impossible to grow in a short time. But these White-Haired People, like Pollution Beasts, continue to grow, and they can even cultivate by absorbing the mist energy from Shennongjia."

"Even more frightening is that these White-Haired People are born with Mystical Arts. In the past, the world was not suitable, making it difficult for them to reproduce. Now, if we give them time, once their population develops again, the consequences will be unimaginable. And now, every White-Haired Person we kill will reduce the future number of White-Haired People by tens or hundreds."

Old Man Xuanshan was speechless upon hearing this. Indeed, what the other party said was correct, but what he said was also correct. Now, resolving the hidden danger of the White-Haired People would inevitably require a huge price. To avoid both methods, unless they chose to migrate away from the Shennongjia area, but... Old Man Xuanshan looked at the forces behind him and shook his head slightly. This was basically impossible.

Driven by immense profit, neither the various factions nor the scattered Talent Users would be willing to migrate.

Even ordinary people wouldn't, because venturing into this uncontaminated Shennongjia area could at least provide some food. If they managed to get a mist grass, it would be enough to live worry-free for a year or a year and a half. But if they migrated to other places, it would truly be a dead end, with no way to survive, because Hengtian Base simply couldn't support so many people.

However, since the Base intended to stay here, he would naturally protect it and ensure the safety of all its people. Old Man Xuanshan's eyes slowly closed, and an aura like a towering mountain began to slowly coalesce.

This was Old Man Xuanshan's Mystical Art, cultivated for decades.

Under Miao Qingshi's command, everyone else also began to prepare. Many had fervent looks in their eyes, especially those who had just learned about mist grass and Mist Spirits on the way. Of course, some were afraid, but everyone had come this far from the apocalypse; how many hadn't stained their hands with blood? How many hadn't struggled on the brink of life and death? Especially those present, most of whom were lone wolves and apocalypse teams invited by various factions, these people were even more reckless than the thugs of those factions.

Everyone was getting ready.

He Zhixin's spear momentum condensed, its sharp aura tearing through the mist.

Invisible wind rotated around Li Tianheng, stirring the mist.

Miao Qingshi stood on a swaying, ten-foot-tall green vine.

The golden glazed flames in Tang Ping's hand churned, slowly forming the shape of a palm along strange dao patterns.

The leaders of the major factions had flickering lights in their eyes, unsure what they were contemplating, while around them, their subordinates gathered, occupying a section.

The apocalypse squads leaned against each other, their auras intertwining, latent and unreleased.

As for the lone wolves, their eyes held extreme indifference, as if nothing could stir their emotions.

A clear, long howl, like an ape and a tiger, suddenly exploded in the mist. The previously calm mist began to churn with tumultuous waves.

But an invisible force held the rolling mist outside the crowd.

Thump! The ground suddenly trembled.