As the saying went, "A mountain looked close enough to kill a horse trying to reach it." It really wasn't an empty phrase.
With every "We're almost there," the entire group had trudged onward through the rugged jungle, stopping and starting for nearly another two hours before they finally drew close.
Looking at the low ridge ahead, everyone came to a halt.
Especially the three hikers at the very back, who were clinging to a rope and inching forward step by step. The instant they stopped, they nearly collapsed face-first onto the ground.
No one paid them much attention.
Even though they were somewhat exhausted, the joy on everyone's faces was impossible to hide.
—It wasn't as if they had already discovered the meteorite crater, something exciting enough in itself.
But some things could be identified even before the crater came into view.
For instance, the ridge ahead.
It was not particularly tall overall. Old Li estimated it to be only a few dozen meters high.
But the vegetation covering the entire ridge was clearly the wrong color.
At this time of year, trees should normally have been grayish-brown, while the grass should have been withered yellow. Even in these abnormal dense forests, most areas merely showed a few signs as though the seasonal temperatures had arrived early.
Yet the ridge was covered in red, green, yellow, purple—every color imaginable. It looked like some punk's wildly streaked hairstyle.
More subtly, from their still-distant vantage point, a thin layer of drifting mist was clearly hanging over the hill, like vapor rising after rain. It was faint and indistinct, vaguely shrouding the ridge.
From afar, it resembled a veil of gauze swaying in the wind, yet it stubbornly refused to disperse.
How could such mist exist in nature?
No one was blind.