The silver snake uttered two strange syllables:

"Great Wilderness!"

Fan Wubing immediately felt enveloped by an irresistible force, stepping onto a winding path gleaming with radiant hues.

No, it was just his will that embarked on that path; his body, even his soul, remained outside.

At this moment, Bai Yihuan and Xue Ya also arrived at the top of the canopy.

The silver snake glanced at them and then slowly closed its eyes.

Bai Yihuan saw Fan Wubing standing ahead, eyes vacant without any vitality, and angrily shouted, "You wicked snake, what have you done!"

She punched fiercely, her fists, carrying great power and a furious aura, rained down on the silver snake.

Yet, not even a single scale loosened because of her punches.

Xue Ya said, "Stop wasting your energy. This snake doesn’t even belong to this era." 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Bai Yihuan panted heavily, "What do you mean?"

Xue Ya’s gaze was distant and mysterious, "Celestial Snake. It comes from the ancient times and returns to them. It is the guardian of the river of time, the ferryman within the ever-flowing age."

Bai Yihuan was even more perplexed.

Xue Ya laughed, "At least we know that Fan Wubing and that girl named Fu Manman are intricately connected with the era called ’Great Wilderness’."

Bai Yihuan didn’t understand these things; she only cared about whether her good friend and soon-to-be good new friend were alright.

Xue Ya said, "Rest assured, the Celestial Snake won’t harm anyone."

"Will they come back then?"

"They will."

"How long will it take?"

"A day, a month, a year, maybe longer."

Bai Yihuan took a deep breath, sitting cross-legged, "Then I’ll wait here for them."

Xue Ya smiled. She walked over to Fan Wubing, and with a Buddhist whisk adorned with black handles and golden threads, she gently brushed his cheek. The body, devoid of will, instantly relaxed and slowly closed its eyes.

She gently helped Fan Wubing sit down, letting him lie in her arms.

Bai Yihuan stared wide-eyed, "What are you doing!"

Xue Ya smiled and asked, "Can’t I?"

Bai Yihuan, looking at Xue Ya’s exceedingly gentle eyes, was momentarily speechless. She felt this woman would likely not harm Fan Wubing but instead seemed to be... protecting him?

She could only whisper, "He’s married to Sister Fu, so don’t act recklessly."

Xue Ya’s gaze was as tranquil as a serene lake, looking at Fan Wubing with affection, "But he’s still lacking love."

"How could that be? Sister Fu loves him very much."

Xue Ya’s voice was delicate and gentle, like spring rain falling on the face, even making the usually carefree Bai Yihuan feel like a serene lady.

"If he were truly happy, why would he have no peace even while asleep?"

Bai Yihuan saw Fan Wubing curled up tightly in Xue Ya’s arms, like a young bird drenched in the rain.

She muttered, "Can someone still lack love even if they are loved?"

Xue Ya said, "An unhappy childhood requires a lifetime to heal." A slight smile played at her lips.

Bai Yihuan inexplicably felt that what this woman said carried weight.

"Was his childhood really difficult?"

Xue Ya’s gaze was slightly faraway, "Perhaps it was like walking on thin ice, in constant fear and trembling."

...

Fan Wubing slowly opened his eyes.

Perhaps that wasn’t right to say, since he didn’t actually feel his "eyes." He merely opened his field of vision, able to see what was happening within it.

The field of vision was a barren wilderness, looking like a Gobi Desert, devoid of any life, only dry brown hard earth and rubble, with the sun suspended motionlessly in the sky, as if daybreak and nightfall didn’t exist.

Fan Wubing tried to move, but couldn’t. Or perhaps he didn’t have a body at all and was just a perspective.

It was like looking at another world through a Profound Realm mirror.

Yet he was certain that he was indeed truly in this world. The feeling was quite mystical.

Thus, he attempted to rotate his viewpoint.

The process was a bit arduous, like a baby trying to move a wardrobe. He had to concentrate his will, focusing all his energy on "moving the wardrobe." He could feel exhaustion, which was puzzling; how could a "perspective" feel exhausted?

He realized that he had become a perspective.

But he didn’t yet know whose or what’s perspective it was. He continued to exert effort, trying to turn himself, want to see more.

The process went on for an unknown duration.

Because without daybreak and nightfall, the sun stayed fixed in the sky, unchanging, making it impossible for him to judge time.

To the extent that he wondered if this world was indeed frozen.

Initially, he was counting the time one second at a time, but soon lost the concept of "how long a second was."

Hence, he gradually became unaware of how long he’d been there.

"Where exactly did that silver snake take me? Is Man’Er here too? Is she also turned into a perspective like me?"

Fan Wubing kept pondering this question without finding an answer.

At a certain moment, suddenly the wind rose. The fierce wind stirred up yellow sand, with fragments and gravel colliding, making a rustling sound.

How long this sandstorm in the Gobi lasted, Fan Wubing couldn’t determine. He only knew that for a long time, all he could see was the yellow sand and rubble.

Until a heavy rain came, soothing the storm and cleansing the azure sky. The sun reappeared; it had always been in some position in the sky, unmoving. Wasn’t the sky really just a painting?

Suddenly, Fan Wubing noticed his perspective shift slightly, moving one centimeter, or perhaps even less, to the left.