Gregory Lawrence curiously asked him, "Bro, don’t you feel hot?"

The entire figure of the solitary figure was cloaked in a black robe, obscuring his shape and face, only his voice could be heard, "Not hot."

The wind swept away the clouds in the sky, leaving the blinding sunlight completely unobstructed, baking the entire forest of dark trees under waves of heat.

It was strange, with the sun being so intense, yet the white mist showed no signs of dissipating.

It still looked blurry around, as if isolated into a separate world.

Gregory Lawrence walked into the shade, lifted his shirt to wipe the sweat on his forehead, "Shall we just go into the white mist now, shall we prepare anything?"

Hannah looked at him, "What to prepare? We don’t have any luggage."

Gregory thought for a moment, "True."

All they had was a backpack.

In the forest of dark trees, there were food and enough water; they didn’t need to bring anything else.

Arnold Simmons looked at the solitary figure standing to the side, "How long did it take you to see that pool of water the last time you went into the white mist?"

"About..." the solitary figure looked up towards the densely wooded area enveloped in white mist nearby, "half a day, a day, no, it was two days."

He couldn’t remember clearly.

Gregory Lawrence leaned against a tree trunk, fanning himself with his hand, "Look, bro, can you be precise, exactly how many days was it?"

The solitary figure bowed his head, as if recalling.

The sun made Hannah slightly irritable; she touched Arnold Simmons’s hand, finding his temperature to be lower than hers, and leaned close to him.

She lazily lifted her eyes toward the solitary figure, asking him, "Could it be you’re getting old so your memory isn’t that good?"

The solitary’s reverie was interrupted, and he turned to glance at Hannah.

A wide brim shaded his entire face, hiding his eyes.

Hannah only felt his gaze landing on her.

Facing Gregory, the solitary figure could ruthlessly say "shut up" and "scram," but now he remained silent.

He knew that whatever he said, Hannah would have something to respond with.

Defeated, the solitary figure chose to keep quiet.

Hannah turned back, tiptoed, and whispered to Arnold Simmons, "Do you think he got hit on the head, causing his memory loss?"

She blinked, her gaze very innocent, not joking, but speculating.

Arnold shook his head, "Probably not, the directions in the white mist are unclear, visibility is low, and people’s perception of distance can become distorted."

"That’s also not right," Hannah was puzzled, "If it’s hard to tell distance, could it be that they can’t even distinguish between day and night?"

The solitary figure glanced over again.

He remained silent.

Arnold explained, "There is no night inside the white mist, only day."

This was what the solitary figure had told him the night before.

Hannah pouted, "Why did he only tell you?"

Arnold chuckled and ruffled her hair, "Because you were asleep last night."

Being asleep, hence not having heard.

That was normal.

But Hannah felt it was not normal.

Her vigilance was always high.

Only because she was with Arnold did she get used to it and let her guard down.

That was not a good thing.

Hannah lowered her eyes, choosing not to speak.

Reflecting on herself.

Hannah suddenly fell silent, Arnold sensed something and was about to speak when the solitary figure voiced out.

"It should be two days." He recalled seriously, "At least two days."

Having interacted for a day, the solitary figure was gradually finding his original voice.

Though still somewhat hoarse, he no longer spoke haltingly.

"Two days!" exclaimed Gregory Lawrence from the sidelines.