Thankfully for the strike team, Lin Mu had led them to a relatively stable area.
Here, the chaotic currents were distant, their reach blunted by a natural buffer. But even so, the unease remained.
Several cultivators, acting on instinct, tried to draw in a breath, only to freeze in alarm. There was no air. No atmosphere of any kind. They opened their mouths and found only emptiness, the realization striking them with cold clarity.
Before panic could take root, they remembered their preparations.
With practiced motions, they activated the talismans attached to their robes. At once, faint bubbles of light shimmered into being around their heads, thin yet stable, providing a steady stream of breathable air. The bubbles clung tightly, self-sustaining, allowing those less experienced to breathe normally once again.
"Good thing we had those prepared," one of them muttered in relief, though his voice remained within the bubble.
The veterans of the group did not bother with talismans.
