Zhao Changhe wasn't as lucky as when he and Yue Hongling fell into the Xuanwu Secret Realm, landing on a soft jelly bed.
But at least it wasn't too bad, the ground below wasn't lava… It was another independent space, not a volcano.
Below was soil, charred, burnt, but not hardened into clumps, loosely packed.
Both of them plunged into the soil, dust-covered, they climbed out, looking around with a mix of astonishment.
Though this place also lacked sun and moon, it wasn't dark, for there was fire. A flame, half a man's height, burned quietly not far ahead, having endured through the whole epoch, through countless times, eternally undying.
Zhao Changhe felt that even Newton's coffin board couldn't suppress this.
Knowing this was essentially a fantasy world, he hadn't felt it was this exaggerated—what fuel is this running on, and how is the air maintained?
But at this moment, he couldn't afford to think too much, nor had the energy to move closer for a better look.
