In the depths of fear and the heat of the bubbling lava, Xie Lian found himself enveloped in darkness.
After a long while, he slowly regained consciousness.
When he opened his eyes, he realized he was lying on a hard surface, while Mu Qing sat nearby, staring blankly at him.
His vision was still hazy, blurred by a faint red glow as he jolted upright and exclaimed, “San Lang!”
However, as soon as he sat up, Mu Qing snapped out of his stupor and warned, “Don’t move!”
Instinctively, Xie Lian reached out to steady himself, but found nothing to grasp.
He lost his balance and nearly toppled over.
Startled, he finally realized he wasn’t on solid ground at all.
He was lying on a bridge!
Before him lay an enormous cavern, its ceiling lost in the vastness of the night sky, and within it floated a broken bridge.
The bridge was in disrepair, dark and eerie, resembling wood more than stone, as if it had endured a thousand years of wind and rain, marked by fire and dust.
It had no supporting pillars and hung suspended in mid-air, endlessly stretching forward and backward, untraceable in origin or destination.
In some places, it was wide enough for three individuals to walk side by side, while in others, it was narrow enough for only one to pass.