The moment He Ao heard the singing, he froze.
He had heard that voice before, on the path to the Underworld.
He looked down at the faintly visible surface of the water in the well.
It did not seem still. It flowed continuously.
It was as though the Withered Well had reached an underground river, exposing its surface.
Yet the shaft was sealed on all sides.
The river seemed to exist somewhere between illusion and reality, passing straight through the shaft.
A word surfaced in He Ao's mind.
River of Underworld.
Did this well actually connect to the River of Underworld?
He Ao paused, then slowly shook his head.
No. The River of Underworld should not possess a power so close to Truth. This short stretch of river was probably just one part of the Well Shadow.
Had several powers come together to form this well?
So it was a well assembled from different pieces?
He Ao studied its reflection.
Strangely, the Well Shadow had displayed a powerful anomaly only when it first appeared. Now that it was entirely in his hands, it resembled an ordinary model toy, with nothing supernatural about it.
Only by looking inside could he see the flowing river.
As He Ao watched, faint reflections began to appear on the insubstantial water.
The first was his own body, but the proportions were wrong.
The well was only the size of his palm, held between his fingers. Viewed from above, its reflection should, by ordinary optics, have shown no more than his head and part of his shoulders.
Instead, it reflected his entire upper body—even the Withered Well in his hand.
It looked as if he were standing beside a full-sized well, leaning on its rim to peer down.
And that was not the strangest thing about