As He Ao walked forward, his vision seemed to grow a little clearer, allowing him to see a little farther down the corridor.
He turned to look behind him. The door he had just opened had already become a hazy glow.
Fine jade patterns flowed across the golden Brass Cane, giving off a faint chill.
He Ao gripped the cane tightly, withdrew his gaze, and slowly continued down the corridor.
Fine glimmers flowed over the surrounding walls, while invisible, twisted whispers played within his mind.
The corridor around him grew increasingly eerie. After an unknown amount of time, He Ao stopped and looked ahead.
The corridor ahead remained deep and dark, with no end in sight.
He Ao turned around and looked behind him. The glow marking the entrance seemed to have been drawn farther away, yet also seemed to have always been there.
A trace of cold loneliness came from the cane. He Ao calmed himself slightly and turned his gaze forward again.
Within that eerie, desolate darkness, some peculiar power seemed to be pulsing. It seemed close, yet also far away.
He Ao raised the cane and attempted to "touch" that twisted power.
It seemed that he had touched it, yet it also seemed that he had not. At that moment, something stirred in his mind, and he looked toward the wall on his left.
A portrait in a golden frame hung there.
Yet when He Ao had first entered, there had been nothing on this wall.
The portrait depicted a dignified old man in a gray suit, holding a golden cane. He was looking up ahead, as though observing something.
The man in the painting was Lynn—or rather, He Ao himself.
The instant He Ao looked at the portrait, twisted, violent corruption surged into his mind.
Then