A Mysterious World Shrouded in Fog: My Fortress Can Embrace Everything

[Refreshing story + invincible protagonist + extraordinary potion system + bizarre monsters + wilderness migration and survival + item fusion and evolution + decisive and ruthless + extreme survival]

In May, when the world was shrouded in eerie fog, some people drew their swords over half a moldy steamed bun by the campfire of the migrating team. Meanwhile, Ling Feng was chewing on a piece of wheat bread in his mobile fortress. The rotten, hard lumps mixed with morning dew and peach wood had somehow become a fluffy staple food, with a sweet aroma that also carried the scent of exorcising evil spirits.

This ability was forced out by the Shadowfiend. When the Shadowfiend was chasing him to the brink of death, three wrecked cars suddenly twisted into a campervan with runic iron netting, and the faint light repelled the ghost.

He hid himself extremely well: during the day, he covered the fortress with withered branches, hiding it at the back of the line as scrap metal; at night, he activated the oxygen supply system, cultivating soul-suppressing herbs and vegetables in the cultivation chamber. But if any tomb raiders dared to touch the fortress, he would use a binding rope made of ink line and ghostly fingernails to create bait, throwing it into the fog to lure away the Crying Bone.

While others sought exorcising talismans and water, he had already used the Shadow Demon Soul Core to create an extraordinary potion. A glimmer in his eyes allowed him to see through the truth: the Crying Bone harmed people with the Heart-Eating Curse, requiring the fusion of Soul-Suppressing Grass and a Copper Bell to make Tranquilizing Incense; the Painted Skin Ghost was hiding in the crowd, requiring the use of a fragment of the Demon-Revealing Mirror and a flashlight to create a Deception-Dispelling Lamp to expose him.

The migration was long and arduous, the rotting wood forest thick with black sap that clung to souls, old clothes piled high, hooking fingers with deadly intent; the human heart was more treacherous than ghosts. But Lingfeng's fortress was always brightly lit, and the tomatoes in the cultivation pods bore golden-edged fruit, imbued with the power of the potion. He turned the steering wheel, the iron mesh shattering the ghostly shadows, the tires crushing white bones, chewing on bread as he looked at the chaos in the rearview mirror, and let out a cold laugh.

In this world, the strongest source of confidence isn't prayer, but the ability to turn scrap metal into a demon-slaying sword and moldy steamed buns into hot meals. Ling Feng happens to excel at this.