With an apathetic look in his eyes, Su Ming slowly flew into the sky. He did not look at the ground, and usually, wherever he went to, he would casually press down and seize the air if he ran into any undying souls, and they would all tremble before immediately breaking down into an endless amount of fog that chased after him.
At that moment, he was the same as the old man in white robes. There were no differences between them.
This process lasted for a very long time. A year, two years, three years… ten years, thirty years, fifty years… a hundred years… perhaps even longer.
Su Ming did not die anymore. He had only died twice. After dying twice and reviving subsequently, he continued moving forward to search for the moaning sound of the horn as he devoured an endless amount of white fog in this endless world.
Preview to next chapter: (Kind of a spoiler?)
Su Ming made it!