The gray fog hung like a thick, leaden cloud, pressing down on every inch of the Suspended Mountain Secret Realm.
Visibility was under five meters.
For most Trial Takers, this oppressive environment was a nightmare, a time to do nothing but hunker down in a safe house and pray.
After all, the Spirit Bodies that flickered in and out of sight within the mist, letting out chilling whimpers, were no laughing matter.
But at this moment, a pitch-black figure, like a giant ghost bat, silently sliced through the dead stillness.
Han Feng wasn't flying too high.
He stayed close to the undulating surface of the Floating Island's rock formations, maintaining an altitude of about thirty meters.
This altitude was a delicate balance—low enough to avoid the keen noses of beasts on the ground, yet not so high as to become a target for aerial predators.
'Is this the joy of a hundred-meter Divine Sense?'
A hint of a smile touched Han Feng's lips beneath his faceplate.
