Chapter 142: Yin-Yang Reversal, Night Parade of a Hundred Ghosts

Mount Beimang rose to fame swiftly—and disappeared just as quickly.

Within only three days, it was as if everyone had completely forgotten Mount Beimang ever existed.

Only those living around Luocheng would recall the mountain upon seeing it, but the moment they looked away, all memory of it vanished from their minds.

Neither the internet nor real life showed any trace of Mount Beimang’s existence anymore.

It seemed everything would come to an end there—but then, something unexpected happened.

The dense fog that had once remained locked within Mount Beimang began to show signs of spreading outward.

In the depths of the spiritual vein, Lu Yan sat beside a massive Psionic Fission Battery, which roared as it released waves of spiritual energy into the surroundings.

Lu Yan, seated cross-legged, absorbed all the psionic energy and converted it into mana, once again casting Fog Arts.

Previously, with his Qi Refining Twelfth Layer power comparable to the Foundation Establishment Realm, he could spread the fog over an eight-kilometer radius.

Now, with the support of the Psionic Fission Battery replenishing his mana in real-time, the effects of his spell had vastly increased.

This time, his target wasn’t just the confines of Mount Beimang—but Luocheng itself!

The mist, thinner than before, began rolling out beyond the mountain in a surging white wave, spreading toward the outskirts of Luocheng with the momentum of a tidal flood.

Unaware, thousands of civilians were enveloped by the mist.

To everyone’s surprise, there was no danger lurking within the fog.

In fact, for some suffering from serious illnesses, breathing in the visible particles suspended in the air actually eased their pain.

Under the shroud of the mist, Luocheng appeared hazy and ethereal, like a fabled cloud city from ancient myth.

Such a miraculous scene naturally stirred curiosity among the populace. Many filmed their surroundings and uploaded them online—only to be instantly shadowbanned and have their accounts suspended.

It wasn’t just Mount Beimang anymore. Even any mention of the Luocheng fog was scrubbed clean from the internet.

If the citizens of Luocheng were still affected by cognitive tampering, that might have worked. But now that the mist was right at their doorsteps, even mental interference couldn’t erase what they were seeing and feeling.

In a low-energy world like this one, altering cognition on such a massive scale had clear limitations. It couldn’t delete memories or forcibly override thought.

The people of Luocheng began to realize something was wrong and tried to raise their voices online.

But the only response they got was silencing and bans.

The entire city had become an isolated island on the internet, and its residents began to feel lost and helpless.

And this… was only the beginning.

Night slowly fell.

Ji Xingyao was heading home after finishing a day of filming.

She was dressed casually in a white jacket and jeans—nothing out of the ordinary. The simple outfit subtly outlined her graceful figure, her long hair cascading freely over her shoulders. A black mask covered her face.

She glanced around at the fog-draped city. Visibility was only ten or so meters. From afar, only faint lights outside buildings could be seen.

In such an environment, even traffic was scarce. Many citizens had either temporarily left Luocheng or simply stayed home, unwilling to venture out. The world felt empty and silent.

But Ji Xingyao didn’t feel particularly afraid.

In fact, she enjoyed walking in the mist, as if something hidden within the fog was silently calling out to her, pulling her in.

Even so, she held herself back, resisting the urge to delve deeper. Instead, her mind wandered to another matter.

Ever since she received that event proposal from Lu Yan, the one that helped her recover her popularity, her videos had regained traction and caught the attention of Qingwu Group.

But not long after, Lu Yan vanished. Ji Xingyao couldn’t find another planner as talented as him. Though the momentum she gained brought her to a decent level, she hadn’t been able to maintain the same peak.

What frustrated her most was her old rival Su Yan, who seemed to have cozied up to some influential figure. These days, Su Yan was constantly posting luxury lifestyle videos from high-end hotels, flaunting her “socialite” persona and gaining huge popularity.

If this continued, she might just catch up to Ji Xingyao at her prime.

Ji Xingyao had no intention of letting Su Yan step on her again.

To truly return to the top, she had to find Lu Yan.

She kicked a stone by her feet and sighed in frustration.

“Lu Yan, oh Lu Yan… where the hell did you go?”

Just then, a breeze swept through the fog.

The air carried a chilling presence—not the kind of cold felt by the skin, but a bone-deep, soul-piercing coldness.

Ji Xingyao shuddered involuntarily, unable to explain why she felt so uneasy.

Nearby, a stray cat arched its back and let out a sharp, mournful screech. A stray dog bolted into a nearby alley.

The unease in Ji Xingyao’s heart grew stronger.

From the outskirts came the distant sound of war drums, faint at first, but steadily drawing closer, mixed with the echoes of battle cries—like those from an ancient battlefield.

Out of the gray-white fog, the faint outlines of fragmented military formations began to appear.

Armored soldiers emerged, marching with spears and halberds. The clinking of metal filled the silent streets. Some of the soldiers had broken arrows lodged in their bodies; some generals were soaked in blood, yet still held high their tattered banners.

Their formation moved in unison down the city’s main road, marching steadily toward the city center.

Ji Xingyao was struck as if by lightning.

Stories she’d heard about Mount Beimang surged to the surface of her mind.

“The wraiths of Mount Beimang’s ancient battlefield!”

Just as she stood in stunned silence, the door of a nearby supermarket suddenly swung open, and a hand reached out to pull her inside.

“Young lady, why are you still out there?!”

Ji Xingyao looked around and saw that it was an older woman who had yanked her in. The woman nervously peeked out the door, holding her breath as she watched the ghostly army pass.

She wasn’t alone.

Inside the supermarket, about twenty others had gathered—half terrified, half curious—watching the ancient army through the glass doors.

But amidst the ancient soldiers, newer ghosts began to appear.

A salaryman in a suit floated through the air, briefcase in hand, his face expressionless. Though dead, dark circles still hung beneath his eyes.

A girl glowing with ghostly light scrolled on her phone, a steel pipe pierced through her chest—yet she seemed oblivious to it all.

At the center of the road, the spirits of car crash victims endlessly re-enacted their final moments.

Near the hospital, ghosts in patient gowns still waited in a never-ending line.

The spirits of two eras crossed paths in the fog—yet did not interfere with each other.

Inside the supermarket, an elderly woman suddenly dropped her basket. Her face contorted in a mixture of joy and fear.

Her lips trembled as she stared at one of the ghosts in a hospital gown.

“Old… old man!”

In that moment, a long-forgotten legend surfaced once again in Ji Xingyao’s mind.

Yin and Yang reversed—A hundred ghosts walk at night!

(End of Chapter)