"Let's go; time to check the other areas." Li Yong's figure flickered and he scaled the adjacent building in an instant.
His claws sank straight into the outer wall; in the blink of an eye he vanished from sight.
Wei Gaocheng's wings beat at his back as he lifted off into the sky.
Even among Level Three Awakened the two of them were top-tier; add their Monster-hardened physiques and they could trade a few blows with a Fourth-level if they had to.
The Roset City Gray Mist incident in Tizi Country was rippling through Awakened organizations across the globe at break-neck speed.
Nanwu Country, headquarters of Lingzhou Prefecture's Sixth Section, Xuanjian Division.
In one corner of the compound stood a special ten-storey building painted entirely in gray.
All interior floor slabs had been gutted; a gantry crane now hurled a twenty-ton, three-metre metal sphere straight at its target.
Fang Wenyu, stripped to the waist, stood his ground and let the sphere slam into him.
Bang! The moment the terrifying impact touched Fang Wenyu the sphere stopped dead; behind him the metal floor caved into a huge crater.
Bang-bang-bang!
Suddenly a dozen custom rifles popped from hidden corners, spitting bullets at five times the speed of sound.
Bang-bang-bang!
The rounds merely bounced off him and peppered the floor behind with tiny pock-marks.
"Not enough—this is too slow. I need a heavier ball." A frown creased Fang Wenyu's face.
To push their powers, Awakened usually burn through their stamina or energy; once it refills naturally, they come back stronger.
Of course, gains depend on talent—someone might train for ten years and still lag behind a prodigy's progress in a fortnight.
The other shortcut is battle; the tougher the fight, the bigger the leap, especially life-or-death clashes where intense emotion accelerates growth faster than any workout.
Beep! As he prepared for another round the machines powered down and the doors slid open.
Fang Wenyu turned—it was his secretary.
The woman hurried in, black-stockinged legs flashing beneath a short skirt, glasses perched on her nose: "Section Chief, we have an emergency!"
Fang Wenyu's gaze sharpened: "Has the Monster Association surfaced?"
"No—something in Tizi Country." She handed him her phone.
"What happens there shouldn't concern us," he muttered, taking the handset.
On screen played an aerial clip: a vast gray fog blanketed the ground below.
"Looks familiar… Roset City?" The fog's size, the sea on one side and distinctive landform, told him instantly where it was.
"Exactly," the secretary nodded. "This was shot an hour ago. Intel says ordinary people collapse the moment they approach the mist; the whole city is already under."
Fang Wenyu's eyes narrowed; he had a hunch the Monster Association was behind it—ever since they appeared the world had gone haywire.
He returned the phone. "Nothing good will come out of that fog."
If it didn't involve his own people he couldn't be bothered—life or death would depend on whatever Awakened Tizi Country could muster.
"Aren't you curious, Chief? Online buzz claims there might be treasure or opportunity inside."
Fang Wenyu shook his head. "Curious about what? A fog this size—who knows if there's anything inside. Unless the Ao Gang Society can't cope and offers real benefits, I'm not interested."
"Understood." The secretary turned to leave.
"Keep me posted if anything changes," he added.
"Yes, sir."
Many Awakened felt the same indifference, but plenty were intrigued.
With nothing like this in recorded history, some booked the first flights to Tizi Country.
They wanted to enter the gray mist and see what was happening.
Outside Roset City the roads were cordoned off.
Five kilometres from the mist a camp bustled with soldiers in blue uniforms.
Three helicopters swooped into the compound.
A sturdy middle-aged officer strode forward to greet them.
The hatch opened and black-robed men and women stepped out.
Leading them: a 2.3-metre bull-necked Caucasian with a buzz-cut and a face like a slab of meat.
The officer bowed respectfully: "Arch-Templar Hariman, the perimeter is sealed; you may proceed at once."
Within Ao Gang Society ranks run: Acolyte, Templar, Arch-Templar—matching Second, Third, Fourth-level Awakened; above them sit two Fifth-level presidents.
Hariman Ewen ignored him, eyes fixed on the gray mist, expression grave.
The officer held his tongue—he was used to Awakened acting above the world.
Even a Second-level short of cash would rob the rich rather than take a salary.
In their eyes ants that could be swatted at will were no longer their kind, money regardless.
"Hariman, we're all here—let's move," a female voice called.
A Middle-aged Woman Investigator approached—another Arch-Templar, a Fourth-level Mental-type tasked with shielding the team's minds.
"Forward. First objective: secure the district three kilometres ahead," Hariman ordered, striding on.
Twenty black-robed Awakened followed—the cream Ao Gang Society could scrape together at short notice.
They covered the five kilometres and halted at the edge of the gray mist.
Hariman turned to the woman: "Saatchi, buff me."
Saatchi flicked her wrist; a pale white aura settled over Hariman.
Under the blessing his muscles visibly swelled.
Alone he stepped into the mist; the gray fog curled against the white light shrouding his skin and could not touch him.