"Zhao Cheng, it's so dark here... and so cold..."
A childish voice rang out, utterly weak, like a little beast exhausted to its last breath.
"Zhao Cheng, where are you...?"
"Zhao Cheng..."
In the darkness, Zhao Cheng frantically searched for something. He heard the voice, yet could never locate it. Growing ever more anxious, he began to run madly. At last, he saw a faint glimmer of light—and within it, a girl in a white dress, hugging her legs with her arms, her face buried against her knees.
The girl looked only seven or eight years old, frail beyond measure.
"Zhao Xiaoxiang!"
Zhao Cheng cried out.
Only then did the girl raise her head. She tried to stand, but found herself utterly without strength, and could only barely stretch out her hand.
Zhao Cheng sprinted toward her and reached out, but the ground before him suddenly turned into an abyss. Zhao Xiaoxiang fell straight down into its depths.
Bang!
Zhao Cheng shot upright in bed, his hand still held in the reaching posture.
It was fully light outside. Sunlight filtered through the curtains and their gaps, dyeing the bedroom in a layer of gold. Zhao Cheng could hear the bustle outside, as well as the sounds of someone busy in the kitchen.
That dream again...
Zhao Cheng thought to himself, but he knew that it was no dream. Perhaps it was Zhao Xiaoxiang's true plight.
The Root was indeed sought after by many powerful beings, but that did not mean it was a good place. On the contrary, it was a forbidden land, exceptionally dangerous.
Another week had passed since the battle against the dragon. Zhao Xiaoxiang had also been gone for a week. Every trace of her had vanished from this world. Her room had become a storage room,