The transition was instantaneous. As Su Ming stepped through the dark gateway of the crucible, the volcanic heat cut off completely, replaced by a dead, freezing cold. Before him lay the second trial.
It was a vast, silent expanse of gray mist, suspended over a dark, churning abyss. Across this void ran a narrow stone path, barely two feet wide. The moment Su Ming's foot touched it, the air grew incredibly thick, pressing against his temples like a dull, hot needle. The mist smelled of ancient dust, hanging motionless as if frozen.
