The pitch-black ancient mine was desolate, devoid of any sound. Ye Fan stood for a long time, thinking about many things. In the end, he didn't change his mind and chose to continue forward.
He walked alone, neither fast nor slow, carefully observing everything around him. However, there were no more carvings on the rock walls; whatever had been there was now gone.
Having already traveled more than thirty li, the ground's soil suddenly became loose, turning grayish-white and allowing his feet to sink completely.
At first, Ye Fan didn't pay much attention, but after walking a few hundred zhang, he began to feel an increasing, bone-piercing chill. The area was heavy with ominous energy, like a north wind whipping snow against him.
When he stepped on a hard object and heard a cracking sound, Ye Fan instantly understood what kind of place he had arrived at.
