Zheng Qing carried the charm gun, cautiously navigating through the depths of the uninhabited forest.
The night was deep, the moonlight and starlight mingling as they fell, casting mottled shadows among the trees. The surroundings were silent, with no roars of wild animals in the distance, no bird calls from the trees, no insects chirping in the bushes, and even the leaves seemed to freeze in the wind, unable to produce a rustling sound.
This oppressive atmosphere made Zheng Qing hold his breath, as if even the slightest intake or release of air would alert some unknown presence deep within the forest.
This silence also heightened his senses.
Soon, his ears caught a distant, deep, and unfamiliar sound, its accent peculiar, not quite human, yet carrying a rhythm akin to a chant.
Just hearing this sound instilled a vague and tense unease in Zheng Qing, giving rise to a conflicted emotion of wanting to escape from a giant beast but also eager to take a look.
