Starting to Gain Experience from Push-Ups Chapter 1249 - 606:

Crack.

Combat boots crushed the sodden, decaying carpet of leaves, emitting a squelching sound as sticky, dark-brown fluid seeped out.

Darkness had completely enveloped the ancient depths of Old Lin deep within West Mountain.

A thick, grayish-white fog eerily resembling a living entity crept along the uneven terrain, ascending the gnarled roots of trees and progressively cloaking the surrounding foliage in layers.

Approximately a hundred meters ahead, the indistinct clamor of a multitude of examinees pushing and rushing could be faintly perceived, punctuated by occasional, unmelodic shouts.

Yet, behind them, a trio deliberately moderated their pace, appearing indifferent to the pursuit of high rankings.

Fang Cheng, hands tucked into the pockets of his training uniform, advanced with measured steps, maintaining a consistent, unhurried rhythm.

He raised his gaze, briefly surveying the undulating fog ahead, then turned his head to speak:

"We just need to keep this distance. I stated it before we departed, avoid any rash pursuit of immediate advantages."

"Let those hundreds of individuals in front scout the path for us. Should any genuine peril arise, we will at least possess a critical window for response."

"Understood, understood, steady and deliberate, precisely."

Ma Donghe vigorously nodded, his agreement delivered with overt enthusiasm.

However, at this precise moment, his demeanor struck a slightly comical note.

A stout individual, weighing well over two hundred jin, hunched his shoulders, his neck drawn inwards. His right hand clutched a flashlight with considerable force.

The intense beam sliced back and forth across the adjacent shrubs, reminiscent of a dormitory supervisor conducting late-night rounds, yet visibly apprehensive of encountering spectral figures.

To their right, Hou Peng exhibited an entirely different bearing.

This lean, sinewy youth consistently maintained a low center of gravity while in motion, his toes making initial contact with the ground before gradually shifting to his heels, resulting in entirely silent landings.

At intervals of roughly ten steps, he would habitually halt for a fleeting half-second.

Subsequently, he would incline his prominent ears, straining to capture any echoes carried on the wind, his gaze rapidly scanning the surroundings and flicking over the interwoven canopy overhead.

These meticulously practiced jungle reconnaissance maneuvers did not seem to originate from standard police academy curriculum; rather, they exuded the distinct aura of a seasoned practitioner from the Martial World.

The three individuals lingered significantly behind the main contingent, following the discernible, albeit disordered, footprints pressed into the earth.

The encroaching fog intensified, virtually condensing into dewdrops upon their eyebrows.

Occasionally, the mournful calls of an owl echoed through the dense woods, reaching their ears.

Navigating this fog-shrouded forest invariably fostered a palpable sensation of being silently observed by unseen entities lurking within the darkness.

Crack!

Hou Peng abruptly halted, the soles of his combat boots eliciting a sharp crunch from the fallen leaves.

He spun around with practiced agility, his wrist executing a swift flick.

A standard-issue dagger was already reversed in his grasp, its blade aimed directly at a massive Chinese fir tree, so broad it would require three men to encircle it.

"Who goes there?"

Hou Peng's voice dropped to a low growl as he demanded.

However.

Aside from the sibilant whisper of wind rustling the leaves, no response came.

Faintly, only a blurred, indistinct shadow materialized near the fir's trunk, undulating and shifting along with the pervasive fog.

"Damn it, cut the creepy act!"

Ma Donghe swallowed convulsively, muttering an expletive to bolster his courage.

He then stooped, unearthed a rock approximately the size of his fist from the damp earth, drew his arm back, and hurled it with considerable force towards the phantom shape.

"Bang!"

The projectile struck the tree trunk with a solid impact, dislodging a fragment of ancient bark encrusted with moss.

It also generated a powerful surge of displaced air, momentarily dispersing the surrounding fog.

But beyond the tree, nothing was found save for a cluster of entwined, withered vines; no figure was present.

Witnessing this, Ma Donghe drew his dagger and advanced, craning his neck to peer cautiously behind the massive trunk.

Still, only emptiness greeted his search.

"This is some serious ghost stuff..."

He mumbled the words as he returned his dagger to its sheath.

Whoosh—

A frigid gust of wind swept inches above the ground, penetrating the very hems of their training uniforms, its icy touch chilling him to the bone.

"Damn it!"

Ma Donghe shivered uncontrollably. He simply tucked the flashlight beneath his armpit, crossed his arms tightly over his chest, and vigorously rubbed his skin to ward off the prickling goosebumps.

"For goodness sake, why is this cursed place as cold as a tomb? My very bones feel frozen."

Beside him, the slender Hou Peng merely tightened the collar of his uniform, showing no indication of shivering.

His resilience to the cold evidently surpassed that of the powerfully built Ma Donghe by a significant margin.

Nevertheless, he too appeared perplexed, turning his head towards Fang Cheng.

"Brother Fang, this sudden drop in temperature is highly unusual. Even the moisture clinging to the leaves seems on the verge of freezing."

It must be remembered that it was currently early summer.

Even considering West Mountain's considerable altitude and the substantial diurnal temperature fluctuations, the nights should, at most, offer a slightly muggy warmth with a hint of coolness.

It was decidedly not expected to be as frigid as a drafty ice cellar.

Fang Cheng extended his right hand, palm open, sensing the resistance of the fog threading through his fingers. He spoke with a calm demeanor:

"It's not that the temperature is plummeting too rapidly. Rather, this persistent fog is continuously siphoning the warmth from our bodies."

Upon hearing this, Ma Donghe nodded in partial understanding and immediately pressed on:

"Then we must accelerate our pace. Once we get moving, the sensation of cold won't be as pronounced."

Hou Peng sheathed his Dagger back onto his belt and added his agreement:

"Indeed, it would be best to exit this fog-laden area swiftly, before our body heat diminishes further."

The trio pressed onward, venturing deeper into the thick woods, their boots sinking into the sodden earth.

However, as they advanced, the surrounding environment became progressively more hostile.

The profound darkness of night merged with the eerie white mist, drastically limiting their field of vision.

The high-intensity beam from the tactical flashlight appeared to strike an impenetrable wall of white.

The illuminated spot fragmented, dissolving into a formless haze just a few paces ahead.

Despite Fang Cheng's senses being considerably keener than those of an average person, his vision was severely impaired by the peculiar magnetic field fluctuations combined with the oppressive density of the fog.

He halted, closed his eyes, and catalyzed the True Sun Fire residing within his Inner World.

When his eyes fluttered open once more, two golden flames ignited in the depths of his pupils.

Instantly, the white fog before him receded, becoming translucent. The landscape within approximately one hundred meters ahead, down to the very texture of the bark on withered trees, came into sharp relief.