Not far away, a huge white lion lay on the ground, sound asleep.
Its body was powerful and well-built, its fur as white as snow, yet it was covered in black stains, looking utterly out of place in this darkness.
Its body rose and fell faintly with each breath, and a soft halo of light emanated from it, as if stubbornly resisting the dark world around it.
Su Yaoyao approached cautiously. She thought the White Lion's appearance strongly resembled Bai Lian.
She called out softly, "Leon?" Her voice sounded faint and ethereal in the dead-silent world, and it was quickly swallowed by the darkness.
When the White Lion didn't respond, Su Yaoyao raised a hand and gently placed it on its body. She slowly closed her eyes, focused her mind, and a continuous stream of spiritual power flowed from her palm into the White Lion.
However, the White Lion remained completely unresponsive, as if it had sunk into an endless abyss of sleep.
