The mist wasn't white. It was an extremely thin pale gold, and it gave off the slightest trace of warmth, standing in sharp contrast to the killing cold all around it.
The moment Jared stepped into the pillar maze, he immediately felt the gale wind around him weaken by quite a bit. That pale golden mist seemed to block out the gale wind. The farther in he went, the weaker the wind became, until in the end it disappeared completely.
His steps grew slower and slower. Heavier and heavier. His spiritual power was almost gone. His vision started to blur, and his legs felt like they had been filled with lead.
Just when Jared was about to collapse, a clear chime suddenly reached his ears. The sound came from deep inside the pillar maze. It drifted through the ice in long, hollow notes, as clean as spring water in the mountains and as distant as an ancient chant. Each time the bell rang, the mist around him gave a faint tremor, as if it were answering the sound.
Jared turned and made his way toward the chime. His steps staggered. His mind was already starting to blur, but that single stubborn pull kept him moving forward, one step after another.
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