The surrounding woods were sparse; a few tattered, withered leaves clung to the branches, rustling in the wind with a low, desolate sound.
It was like an ancient elegy echoing in the emptiness, heavy with desolation and stillness.
In such an environment, it seemed as if time itself had come to a halt, with only the sound of the wind narrating the vicissitudes and changes of the years.
Chen Yun followed the scent and footprints, slowly walking through the dense forest.
A large area of soft, rotting leaves on the forest floor dented with each calm, heavy step, feeling as if he were stepping into mud.
The rotting leaves shattered under pressure, emitting a series of faint sounds.
Feeling the humidity in the air gradually increasing, Chen Yun couldn't help but look up at the sky.
It looked like it was going to rain; the sky was a gloomy leaden gray, darkening the entire forest considerably.
It was only just after nine in the morning.