Opposite the desolate and pitch-black world.
The world beyond the door was filled with endless pale whiteness—somewhat like The Land of Void Zheng Qing had once visited, but not entirely the same. Because this world wouldn't peep into the hearts of its visitors, nor was there an ethereal voice repeating every thought in Zheng Qing's mind.
Standing at the doorway was that figure donning a yellow robe, with his back towards Zheng Qing.
Hearing Zheng Qing's footsteps, He turned around.
As before, his face was still covered with a white soft mask, hands tucked into his sleeves, his lower half submerged in the thick white mist, with tentacles vaguely visible rolling in the mist.
The hint of green in His eyes was one of the few colors in this pale land.
"You've come?" rasped the Yellow-clothed Man.
Zheng Qing pretended not to notice the mockery in His voice—perhaps there was no intention to mock, but Zheng Qing thought he detected it.
