The terrain ahead remained unchanged no matter how far he flew. The dried plains, the broken ridges, the scattered fog—everywhere his divine sense swept, it revealed the same scenery he had left behind.
Han Cheng slowed, his brows furrowing, for some reason, he doesn't feel good about this, something isn't right... But he couldn't pinpoint it exactly.
He flicked a sleeve, releasing several jade slips, which immediately shone with guiding light. Yet the guiding lights all twisted and curved, pointing him in circles until they shattered with a faint pop.
His expression darkened further. He formed another incantation gesture and pressed it between his brows. Threads of black spiritual light shot out, spreading around him in a net of divine sense detection. However, within several hundred li, he found nothing unusual—only a deep stillness that pressed down on him like a heavy shroud.
A chill rose in Han Cheng's heart. A Heavenly Tribulation cultivator… lost like a child?
