Contrary to that desolate, pitch-black world.
The world beyond the door was filled with endless pallor—somewhat like the Blank Land Zheng Qing had once visited, yet not entirely the same. This world did not pry into its visitors' thoughts, nor was there an ethereal voice repeating every notion in Zheng Qing's heart.
The figure in the Yellow Robe stood by the door with its back to Zheng Qing.
Hearing Zheng Qing's footsteps, it turned around.
As before, its face was still covered by a white soft mask, its hands tucked into its sleeves, and its lower body submerged in dense white mist. Thick tentacles could vaguely be seen churning within the fog.
The hint of green in its eyes was one of the few colors in this pale land.
"You're here?" the yellow-robed figure said in a hoarse voice.
Zheng Qing pretended not to hear the mockery in its voice—perhaps it had not meant to mock him at all, but Zheng Qing thought he heard mockery nonetheless.
"You, sir, you should take off your mask." He tried to make his voice sound more polite. "If you're willing to meet me and have something to tell me, why not remove your mask and meet me honestly?"
"Mask?" The yellow-robed figure was clearly somewhat confused. "What is a mask?"
"The thing on your face."
The pair of green eyes beneath the hood flickered. "I am not wearing a mask."
"Not... not wearing one?" Zheng Qing stared at that white face, his heart suddenly tightening and his throat growing dry. "If you're not... then you're not. I know a Faceless One who looks rather like you... You said earlier that this was hell. I never expected hell to look like this..."
The yellow-robed figure interrupted the young wizard's incoherent small talk.
"To you,