The golden light of the spatial gateway did not merely dazzle as he entered, but it felt like a physical weight pressing against Shen Haoran's retinas, forcing him to shield his eyes as the world he knew was stripped away.
Or rather, he felt as if he was falling down, even though he knew that he wasn't moving.
When the sensation of falling finally subsided and he regained his vision, the biting frost of the Northern Continent had been replaced by a heavy, humid stillness.
He stood in the center of a clearing within a dark, ancient forest.
The trees here were titanic, their bark gnarled like the skin of prehistoric saurians, and their leaves were a deep, bruised purple that seemed to absorb what little light filtered down from a stagnant, emerald sky.
Haoran remained perfectly still, his arms crossed over his chest, his golden eyes scanning the trees, or rather, the entire surroundings.
