Mist.
Thick mist.
The cultivator abruptly frowned, raising a thin layer of protective astral energy as he walked through the viscous fog.
He was already at the Golden Core realm, a figure of some standing in the cultivation world.
Having reached the pinnacle of the First Step, he had rashly entered this sea of mist after faintly glimpsing flashing treasure light.
At the time, his heart had burned with passion. With a do-or-die resolve, he had stepped in without fearing death.
Yet when he truly arrived, even the direction behind him had long been obscured by the fog. No matter how he flew, he could not find the way back. That suited him perfectly.
He had already completely cut off his own retreat.
"Fine, fine..."
The cultivator took a deep breath, formed a hand seal, and sent his flying sword circling at his side as he carefully searched ahead.
Yet fine beads of sweat gradually surfaced on his forehead.
This thick fog did not seem like fog at all. Instead, it resembled incomparably dense Baleful Intent, constantly wearing away at his protective astral energy and spiritual power. Yet he had no strength to resist, nor did he know how to avoid it.
Regret inevitably arose in his heart.
If he had investigated this baleful mist beforehand and made sufficient preparations for treasure hunting, he would not have been as helpless as he was now.
"The Baleful-Dispelling Umbrella is useless."
"The Five Elements Body-Fixing Potion cannot withstand the Baleful Intent either."
"..."
The cultivator found walking increasingly difficult. He discovered that there was not a trace of spiritual energy in the mist to replenish him. He was like a lost traveler crossing a desert, about to die of thirst and hunger.
His steps staggered, and his body pitched forward, about to