Chen Ping did not answer.

His gaze fell ahead, where some blurry figures could be vaguely seen in the mist.

The twisted, irregular shape resembles a dead tree or the wreckage of a collapsed building.

“Is anyone home?” Xuanzhenzi called out tentatively.

The sound echoed in the gray space, growing farther and farther away, but there was never an echo.

A faint tremor came from the soles of Chen Ping’s feet.

It started as a very slight, rhythmic beat, like a heartbeat, and then gradually intensified, shooting from the soles of the feet through the knees, up the spine and straight to the crown of the head, as if the space itself were a living thing breathing.