Boundless darkness enveloped his consciousness. Song Yan felt as though he had been submerged underwater all along.
He could not move a muscle, and waves of cold washed over him.
He did not know how long had passed before sounds gradually reached his ears. Then he began to perceive light before his eyes.
It was like someone drowning finally breaking the surface.
Drawing that first breath of air after suffocating.
What a stale smell. But it's warm, without the chill of Yin-Sha Qi.
He struggled to open his eyes. His vision was blurred, as though he were looking through a layer of rippling water.
A rough ceiling, without any ornamentation.
He could not tell where the light came from. It was soft, but bright enough to see clearly.
Yet he still had no strength. All he could do was try turning his neck, shifting his field of vision along with it.
It was a small stone chamber with extremely simple furnishings.
Beneath him was a hard stone bed.
There was a stone table with several books on it, most of them made of paper.
A crude wooden rack stood in the corner, holding several folded garments of coarse cloth. One Black-Gold Daoist Robe looked particularly familiar: it was his own.
The Infinite Treasury leaned beside the wooden rack as well.
The stone chamber had no door, only a low, square doorway leading into a somewhat more spacious area outside.
Through the doorway, he could faintly make out several rough wooden posts standing farther away. They seemed to be for practicing martial arts or movement techniques.
Where is this?
Song Yan's mind was a muddle. The last fragments of memory from before he lost consciousness slowly surfaced.
By rights, I should be dead. Did someone save me?
His brain could hardly