Seeing Bai Zhu still standing where he was, Gao Mao turned back to look at him.
"What, scared?!"
To be honest, Bai Zhu really did not want to go in. No matter how he looked at it, this was bizarre. Then Gao Mao's urging came again.
I can't run away anyway. Gritting his teeth, Bai Zhu walked in.
The Red Door closed behind him. The surrounding light did not dim; instead, the red all around them grew even richer.
The ground beneath his feet was no longer hard stone slabs, but some strange, elastic material. Every step landed without a sound, as if he were walking on thick cotton. Wisps of red mist drifted in from all directions, wrapping around Bai Zhu's ankles. They felt icy cold, yet had no substance.
This place was terrifyingly quiet.
There was not a single sound. Even his own heartbeat and breathing seemed to have been swallowed by this empty space. The Pope's head hanging from his waist had gone completely still. Even its faintest struggles had stopped, as if it had truly become nothing more than an ornament.
Gao Mao, walking ahead of him, had also fallen unusually silent. It no longer made its "whoosh, whoosh, whoosh" laughter, merely striding in a certain direction on its short legs, its little bubble shoes making soft chirping sounds.
Bai Zhu tightened his grip on the Asauchi. Reiatsu slowly circulated through his body as he warily scanned his surroundings.
He did not entirely trust this Gao Mao that looked like a little demon. Judging from the information on the murals, those bizarre eyes had only appeared after Gao Mao entered the ruins. There was a strong chance they had come after it. Gao Mao had brought him in so readily in the name of helping him,