So he did not force her to stay.
He merely gave Amara a chance to return and retrieve the fragment.
He walked out of the underground space. Outside, those fungal sacs were still writhing like countless rotten hearts. In the distant safe zone, the survivors were still waiting to die, the angels were trembling, and the demons were still kneeling.
He did not care and continued north.
Three thousand li north.
The farther north he went, the thinner the Pestilence became.
The black fungal carpets went from thick to thin, from thin to scattered patches, and finally disappeared completely.
The ground was no longer soft, rotten black matter, but hard, grayish-white permafrost. The cloying stench of decay in the air also faded, replaced by an icy wind as sharp as blades.
Wu Heng walked across the frozen ground with his protective barrier withdrawn.
The Pestilence here was too thin to warrant it. His boots crunched against the permafrost.
No one followed behind him.
He had left Kyle in the safe zone. He had brought neither Isaac, Thomas, Karim, nor Elena. This prey belonged to him alone.
He flew for an entire day without stopping or resting. There was no need. The Trait Tree within him glowed, providing him with an endless stream of energy.
He only needed to keep moving forward, toward the place where that aura was strongest.
At dusk, he saw a rift.
The rift was deep and wide, stretching from east to west with no end in sight.
The cliff walls on either side were grayish-white rock, covered in icicles. Some were like blades, others like spears, glinting coldly beneath the gray-yellow sky.
Mist churned at the bottom of the rift. It was not the black Pestilence mist, but white vapor filled with ice crystals.
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