The wind from the desert came from the sky, as though a huge hole had been revealed in the sky. Endless sandstorms swept through every inch of the desert.
It covered the sky, shrouding everything in a blur.
The wailing sounds, akin to countless cries, gathered and formed a lamentation that seemed capable of tearing apart the soul.
If ordinary people that were not native to this place were here, their souls would undoubtedly struggle to endure for too long. Even cultivators faced the same challenge. Only those native to the desert could remain unaffected.
At that moment, Xu Qing was walking in the desert. His expression was calm. He wore a tall hat and there was an ancient artificial sun tied to his waist. His footsteps were relaxed.
Even though the sand was soft, he walked on it like he was walking on a flat ground, and there was no dent.