The drunkard glanced at the two of them but said nothing, lying down on the bed to sleep.
Qing Yi stepped forward, "Are you hungry?"
"Not hungry, just tired," the drunkard said without opening his eyes.
"Then you should rest early." Qing Yi turned off the light for him and went to his room with Bai Yi.
With the door closed, the drunkard opened his eyes again, sat up, glanced at the closed door, and slightly lowered his gaze.
Then he picked up the gourd of wine from the bedside table and began to drink again...
He was not the only one suffering from insomnia tonight.
Jun Moyan lay in bed with one hand behind his head, staring at the ceiling with furrowed brows.
The incidents that had transpired, which defied all logical explanation, made him feel as if the world had taken on an air of fantasy.
Being constantly at a passive disadvantage made him very irritable, as if there was a fire suppressed within him that found no outlet.
Completely unable to grasp the other party’s movents, unable to find their presence either, this sense of being at soone else’s rcy was undeniably a first for him.
"ow~"
The little milk cat around his neck moved, tightening its small paws around his neck and rubbing its little head against him.
Jun Moyan raised his hand and smoothed its fur.
It was well into the night before he slowly drifted off to sleep.
However, less than half an hour after falling asleep, Jun Moyan plunged into a chaotic abyss.
It was as if he had suddenly fallen from solid ground into a bottomless chasm.
The descent was swift, the wind tearing past his ears nearly preventing him from opening his eyes.
As he fell deeper, the surrounding darkness grew and the cold encroached, as if he had plunged into a bottomless pool, seemingly never reaching its end.
After an indeterminate ti, the pitch-blackness that had prevented him from seeing his hand before him gave way to a kind of hazy darkness that was visible but not clear.
A sinister aura rushed towards him.
His descent halted, but it didn’t feel like he was standing on solid ground.
He looked down to gauge the ground, but saw only swirling black mist, unable to make out anything below the lower part of his legs.
Jun Moyan frowned and surveyed his surroundings with caution.
The area was shrouded in black fog, obscuring everything beyond three ters.
Waves of cold, sinister air struck him, making Jun Moyan feel as if he were in hell.
He stepped forward cautiously and proceeded.
The further he walked, the thicker the fog grew, the lower the temperature dropped.
This bone-chilling cold seed to freeze the blood in his veins.
In this ominous place fraught with danger and the unknown, Jun Moyan should have been vigilant and fearful, yet he felt an inexplicable familiarity.
This sense of familiarity, its origin unknown, struck him as both strange and baffling.
After an undefined period, the sound of river water slapping against the shore, interspersed with the shrill cries of countless ghosts, drifted towards him.
Jun Moyan’s steps halted, hesitating whether to continue forward or not.
But curiosity prevailed, and after only a mont’s hesitation, he continued on.
He wanted to uncover the true nature of this place.
The closer he approached, the clearer the wailing of the ghosts beca, sending a chill through him.
The outline of an ancient stone bridge erged from the fog, causing Jun Moyan to stop.
The bridge exuded a sense of antiquity and weight, as if weathered by countless years of rain and wind.
Below it, a yellow river resembling muddy water churned beneath the bridge.
The river was turbulent, and one could hardly imagine the fate of anyone who fell in—it would certainly be bone-shattering.
The roar and howls of thousands of ghosts seed to emanate from the water.
A gust of cold wind blew, dispersing the black fog slightly.
Jun Moyan focused his eyes and when he saw what was in the river, he felt a tingling on his scalp, a chill running down his spine.
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