"No," Han Yu said. "It really wasn't."
Seeing that the odds were against them now, the veiled woman quickly threw a smoke talisman to the ground.
FWOOOSH!
Mist exploded outward. It swirled unnaturally, tugged by a formation they hadn't seen before, masking her escape. The last disciple followed, limping, disappearing into the veil of fog.
By the time it cleared, they were gone.
Silence fell.
Broken bodies lay scattered around them. The mist was still—but it no longer felt oppressive. Whatever illusion they had been trapped in had collapsed.
Han Yu exhaled deeply, swaying a little.
"Is it over?" Fatty Kui asked, finally standing and wiping blood from his nose.
"I think so," Wu Shuan said. "But we need to leave. Fast."
Han Yu nodded, glancing down at his bloodied fist. The static was gone, but the echo of power still lingered.
He didn't need all of his Soul qi to fight, only the amount that was required. A few well placed attacks were enough.
