The setting sun blazed like blood, painting the contours of Wangsheng Slope in an eerie crimson. Zang Ba reined in his warhorse; the cold glint of his dark armor flickered in the twilight. Behind him, the infantry and cavalry formations led by Li Hei and Chen Wei spread like an iron flood, the clashing of armor plates echoing through the silent woods, startling a few late-returning jackdaws into flight.
"General, the territory of Qingce Village lies just ahead," Li Hei urged his horse closer, his rough voice tinged with impatience. "That Yelan's rebel army is nothing but a rabble, hiding in the village clinging to life. Why delay here?" The long halberd in his hand sliced through the sunset with a cold gleam, its tip still stained with blood from the previous day's raids.
Zang Ba's brows knitted tightly as his gaze swept over the mist-shrouded woods ahead. The only path to Qingce Village was now blanketed in an abrupt pink fog—thick as fine rouge, it drifted slowly through the trees, turning the surrounding light ambiguous and uncanny. "Something's wrong," he said grimly, tightening his grip on his Tiger-Head Spear. "This place is called Wangsheng, known only for miasma. I've never seen fog of this color."
Chen Wei had always been cautious; he had already ordered his personal guards to raise shields at the front of the formation. "The general is right. This fog appears suspiciously. Shall we send scouts ahead first?"
Before he finished speaking, a faint tinkle of jade pendants drifted from the pink mist, as if a woman were walking through it. Then a languid, seductive female voice floated out, laced with mockery: "Travelers from afar, why hurry? The twilight of Wangsheng Slope is quite beautiful, is it not?"
Zang Ba's heart jolted. He had fought in countless battles and heard countless battlefield taunts, but never a voice so enchanting—almost magical, making his warhorse paw the ground restlessly. "Who's there playing tricks?" he shouted sharply, pointing his spear at the mist. "I am Zang Ba, under Lord Wenhou's command, here to suppress traitors! Step aside at once, or I will raze this place to the ground!"
"Lord Wenhou?" The woman's voice chuckled, the sound spreading like wind chimes in the mist, dazing the eyes of several soldiers in the front row. "So you're Lü Fengxian's men… How rare. A tiger from the Central Plains has come to hunt in the mountains of Liyue?"
Li Hei was hot-tempered and could no longer contain his rage. With a roar, he prepared to charge into the mist on horseback. "I don't care what witch you are! I'll split you in two with my halberd!"
"General Li, hold!" Zang Ba snapped urgently. He suddenly noticed that the pink fog seemed to move with the woman's voice; near the warhorses, grass blades withered visibly before their eyes. "This fog is poisonous!"
No sooner had he spoken than two scouts at the mist's edge screamed and fell from their horses. When the guards dragged them over, their faces were blue and purple, fine beads of blood seeped from their seven orifices, and their lips glowed an eerie pink—they were already dead.
Chen Wei gasped. "Illusion? Or toxic miasma?"
"Perhaps… both," the voice in the fog replied with a smile that sent chills down their spines. "You brute warriors from foreign lands think you can conquer the world with mere brute force? Do you know how many mysteries lie hidden in the soil of Liyue that you cannot comprehend?"
Zang Ba's face turned ashen. He knew they had met a formidable foe. The fog not only blocked their vision but also carried a strange poison, and the woman's voice could directly disrupt their minds—far more dangerous than an enemy in open combat.
"Form up!" Zang Ba ordered in a low voice. "Shieldbearers to the front! Archers, prepare fire arrows to disperse the fog!"
The soldiers obeyed. Heavy shields formed an iron wall; archers nocked arrows wrapped in oil-soaked cloth. At Zang Ba's command, fire arrows shot forth in a volley, screaming toward the pink mist.
Yet the flames flickered weakly once they entered the fog, like pebbles sinking into a deep pool, swallowed instantly by the thick vapor without raising a wisp of smoke.
"I… Impossible!" Li Hei's eyes widened in disbelief.
The woman's voice sounded again, mocking: "Using mortal fire against my sorcery? How naively charming."
As her voice fell, the pink fog surged violently, like boiling tide, spreading rapidly toward Lü Bu's army. Wherever it passed, grass withered instantly, tree leaves lost their luster, and the air grew thick and acrid.
"Retreat! Fall back at once!" Zang Ba shouted urgently. He sensed the power in the fog was beyond mortal resistance; further stalemate would only cost more lives.
The soldiers scrambled backward, their formation falling into disarray. At that moment, countless faint footsteps echoed from the mist, as if shadows moved within it—yet no figures could be seen. Cold arrows occasionally shot out, striking straggling soldiers with precision and spreading greater panic.
Chen Wei tried to reorganize the troops, only to find the soldiers' gazes growing vacant. Many began muttering to themselves, as if bewitched. He himself felt dizzy, as if countless whispers lingered in his ears, tempting him to lay down his weapon and walk into the pink fog.
"Not good—enchantment magic!" Chen Wei bit the tip of his tongue hard; the sharp pain jolted him awake. "Hold your minds! Do not listen to that voice!"
But it was too late. Several weak-willed soldiers, their eyes glazed, actually laid down their weapons and walked toward the mist, vanishing into the pink vapor without a sound.
Zang Ba was both shocked and enraged. He had fought for half his life and never seen such an uncanny tactic. The enemy did not show themselves, did not engage in combat—yet with only a fog and a voice, they had thrown his army into chaos. He knew that if this continued, his men would be wiped out before even reaching Qingce Village.
"Retreat!" Zang Ba ground his teeth, forcing out the order. "Pull out of Wangsheng Slope and return to camp!"
It was a painful decision. As a general under Lü Bu, retreating voluntarily was tantamount to admitting defeat. But he knew better: preserving his forces was all that mattered now.
At the order to retreat, the soldiers were greatly relieved, abandoning formation and scrambling backward. The pink fog did not pursue; it only churned in place, as if mocking their disarray.
Zang Ba glanced one last time at the eerie pink mist, his knuckles white around his spear. He faintly felt a pair of eyes watching them from within the fog—calm, indifferent, seeing all.
"Move out!" Zang Ba wheeled his horse around, his voice heavy with suppressed anger and frustration.
Li Hei and Chen Wei exchanged a glance, both seeing fear in each other's eyes. They followed Zang Ba's figure, leading the remnants of their army in a miserable retreat from Wangsheng Slope. Behind them, the pink fog lingered like a lazy guardian, quietly shrouding the woods and completely blocking the path to Qingce Village.
Only when Lü Bu's army vanished into the trees did the pink fog slowly recede, revealing a stunning figure within. Yae Miko leaned against an ancient maple tree, her pink fox ears twitching softly, nine fluffy tails faintly visible behind her. She twirled an exquisite charm between her fingers, a faint smile playing on her lips.
"A tiger from the Central Plains truly does not adapt to Liyue's land," she murmured to herself, a complex glint in her eyes. "But this is only the beginning… Those who covet Liyue's soil must pay a price."
A light breeze stirred, lifting fallen maple leaves. Yae Miko's figure gradually melted into the twilight, leaving only a faint pink haze lingering over Wangsheng Slope—a silent testament to this strange, brief clash. She had not died in Inazuma; that death had merely been an illusion she wove to escape mortal turmoil. Yet in the end, she had to use her schemes once more to protect this land. And Zang Ba and his men were merely the first obstacle in her plan, easily and silently repelled by this deceptively gentle pink fog.