I Forged the Myth of the Ancient Overlords
Chapter 923 - 923 922. Incoming call

Chapter 923: 922. Incoming call Chapter 923: 922. Incoming call Whether it was Cui Siter’s illusion or not, the fog had become denser, even the nearby streetlights flickered as if about to go out.

He looked up, and the sky was a gray blur, devoid of stars or the moon, making the island and this small town seem completely isolated from the world.

Lu Ban looked towards the direction of the villa, which was completely engulfed by the fog, revealing nothing. He was somewhat worried, unclear about Amber and Red Leaf’s situation.

Naturally, there was no cell signal, and Lu Ban’s old phone didn’t have the capability to send or receive satellite messages, leaving him unable to call Amber without a signal.

“We just need to find the source of the problem as soon as possible.”

Lu Ban murmured to himself.

Fortunately, as a Chosen by Gods, he had seen all kinds of storms, even bantering with avatars of the Outer Gods, making the likes of Shia and Cui Siter from this world seem too young in comparison.

This situation was mostly due to something happening on the island, either the Ancient Overlord awakening or the Evil God causing trouble. Definitely, it wasn’t some ordinary climate anomaly creating this dense fog.

Moreover, the experiences just now in the bar had convinced Lu Ban that supernatural forces were indeed affecting the island.

The tourists were just the beginning—not sure if it was the food here or something else—staying here meant possibly he himself, or someone near him might undergo Mutation.

Thinking of this, Lu Ban picked at his own throat, completely throwing up what he had just drunk. Despite that, his esophagus and stomach still burned strongly. There was definitely something left, he just didn’t know if he would develop gills or webs.

“The lodge should be in this direction, let’s move quickly.”

Cui Siter pointed ahead, as the fog became even denser, barely revealing the lodge, with only the doorway’s streetlight serving like a beacon in the darkness, guiding the way.

“There’s not a single person on the street.”

Shia couldn’t help but say.

“Do you also need to put in more effort?”

Lu Ban replied unconsciously.

“Huh?”

Shia looked at him, confused, but then as if remembering something, she muttered to herself,

“Yes, we need to put in extra effort.”

Lu Ban quickly scanned the surroundings—the island didn’t have many private cars, and the street lacked any sleek black cars, ensuring that no group of men in black would suddenly appear and interrupt them.

Walking in the fog, Cui Siter felt a wave of heat and dampness.

The fog was like the mist produced by boiling seawater, filled with a pungent smell and a strong sticky feeling. It clung to their bodies and was as oppressive as stepping out of a steaming basket.

He, Lu Ban, and Shia maintained a distance of one person between them, confirming each other’s presence in the increasingly dense fog.

After about five minutes, Cui Siter felt something was off.

“Do you guys notice that we seem to have been walking for quite a while?”

He asked.

From their initial distance to the lodge, a few hundred meters should have been easily covered in five minutes.

Yet now, the lodge still seemed distantly far, almost as if it would take another fifteen minutes to reach.

This feeling was like a mirage in a desert, puzzling.

“Could the lodge be an illusion?”

Lu Ban seriously looked over there; it appeared realistic, as if there truly was a lodge.

“Uncle Cui, do you still have a signal on your phone?”

Shia pulled out her phone, checked her own signal, then turned on the camera flash to use as a flashlight.

The light pierced through the swirling, dense fog, illuminating the nearby street.

“No.”

Cui Siter also used his cellphone to shed some light, revealing the surrounding houses in disrepair. The walls bore many mottled scratches, and the sign hanging at the shop front appeared as if it had been submerged in water for a long time, with deep colors and spotty rust. The street didn’t look like it was inhabited, rather, it resembled long-destroyed ruins.

Lu Ban turned around and found the eerie bar, which had inexplicably vanished into the fog, leaving no trace.

He walked up to a nearby storefront and realized it was the restaurant where they had eaten that afternoon.

Looking through the floor-to-ceiling windows, the tables and chairs were askew, in complete disarray, as if raided by robbers.

Lu Ban reached out, touching the glass, his fingers meeting a cold and sticky sensation spread across it, reminding one of glue having been smeared. He withdrew his fingers, noticing some clear dewdrops, which clearly were not just water due to their viscosity. He sniffed at them, detecting a musty, salty scent.

Suppressing the urge to taste it, Lu Ban wiped it off.

After all, he was no longer his usual self, and eating random substances could indeed be deadly if he did not investigate this place thoroughly first.

Lu Ban, always cautious and making calculated moves, turned his head back without attempting to step inside the restaurant.

But when he turned around, he realized both Cui Siter and Shia were gone.

“Old Cui? Shia?”

Lu Ban called out twice, but his calls were met only by the dense fog.

He listened intently, trying to detect if Shia and the others had unwittingly wandered off, but the nighttime street was utterly silent.

No, not quite silent.

Lu Ban heard faint, subtle whispers within the fog.

These whispers seemed like murmurs from deep beneath the sea, filled with an obscure, indifferent, and frenzied nature, provoking intense feelings of loneliness and agitation.

On this quiet street, such mutterings scratched through Lu Ban’s mind like nails incessantly scraping a chalkboard.

He thought for a moment; he could not just sit around and wait to die. It might be better to head towards the hotel.

Thus, Lu Ban resumed walking.

The flickering lights at the hotel’s entrance penetrated the fog and quickly became the only landmark in Lu Ban’s world.

He felt the ground become sticky as well, looking down to see that the ground was damp, as if a water truck had just passed by. This water seemed similar to the fluid on the restaurant’s glass, a glue-like substance that made it feel like stepping into a puddle of mud after rain.

This was probably what some people raved about on social media as the “stepping in poo feeling.”

Lu Ban stepped on it a few more times.

He continued forward, but the streetlamp showed no signs of getting any closer.

A writer once described death as walking along a road and encountering a wall that stretched indefinitely in every direction, with no end in sight.

Now, although Lu Ban could move in any direction, the only beacon he had was the streetlamp ahead. Continuing this way seemed no different from walking towards death.

He called out a few more times, but aside from the whispers by his ears, there was no response.

He walked a few steps, then suddenly, his pocket vibrated.

Lu Ban reached into his pocket and discovered it was his cellphone.

The phone vibrated, emitting a pleasing ringtone, resonating through the silent street.

Lu Ban saw there was an incoming call.

It was from Amber.