Lu Ao had exhausted all his strength to create this fog.
Once the mist rose, his whole body went weak, leaving him without an ounce of strength.
He staggered back a few steps, and his back suddenly pressed against a broad, warm chest.
Lu Ao immediately recognized the scent of the person behind him. "Song Zhou..."
He relaxed against him and murmured, "Why did you come?"
"I sensed the disturbance from your side." Song Zhou helped him sit down, took out a bottle of liquid, and fed it to him. "Don't talk. Drink some water first."
The liquid was cool and faintly sweet. Once Lu Ao swallowed it, his parched, burning throat quickly eased.
After drinking, Lu Ao finally felt alive again. "What is this?"
"A spiritual spring from Old Songzhou."
Song Zhou asked, "Are you sleepy? Do you want to go back and rest for a while?"
"They—" Lu Ao had wanted to ask about Xiang Xingchang and the others, but when he turned around, he saw that everyone was sleeping soundly. Their soft snores rose one after another like a symphony.
They slept so peacefully that Lu Ao was almost lulled to sleep himself.
Song Zhou said, "Go back and sleep. Everyone nearby has fallen asleep."
Lu Ao looked at the vast white fog. "Including the ship on the other side?"
"Yes. They're asleep, and their instruments have failed too. They can't leave."
Lu Ao stood up and looked out at the nearly boundless white mist. "Did I make all of this?"
"No. You got it started, and I helped fill it out." Song Zhou looked at him with smiling eyes. "After this, you should be about able to learn how to make it rain."
Hearing that, Lu Ao could not help recalling the marvelous sensation of countless