Lin Yi froze for a moment, then realized that was indeed the case.
Sure enough, after they traveled through the mist for a while longer, the ground beneath Mao Feiyang's feet began to soften. At first, it only felt like stepping on slightly rotten planks, but it soon turned into soft sand, then began to feel like somewhat dried-out sludge...
"Great, is the 'Layer Leap' almost over?"
"Over? It's still going..." Mao Feiyang murmured.
Lin Yi noticed that Mao Feiyang's voice sounded rather low, as though he were speaking through gritted teeth.
Looking closely, he saw that veins had started bulging at Mao Feiyang's temples at some point. Lin Yi's heart abruptly tightened. He suddenly realized that, since he was not the one doing it, he had no way of knowing just how much strength Maozi was expending to move forward here.
"Heh heh heh..." A strained, low chuckle escaped Mao Feiyang's throat.
Lin Yi wanted to remind Mao Feiyang to use the feather, but before he could speak, he noticed that Mao Feiyang already had the sculpture feather clenched tightly in his palm.
Mao Feiyang had long since taken out the sculpture feather and put it to use. Even so, walking through this mist had already exhausted almost all his strength.
The sculpture feather's domain was compressed beyond recognition here, like the ultrathin raincoat Wei Liang had pulled out and put on in the middle of a storm.
The sensation beneath his feet grew increasingly strange, and Mao Feiyang staggered more and more. Low, fragmented calls gradually began to emerge from the gritty fog, like countless wraiths drifting beside his ears, constantly murmuring in low voices.
The less he wanted to pay attention to those sounds, the more he noticed them. The less he wanted to hear what they