The swamp's mist was like thick, damp cloth, shrouding everything in layers. The air was humid and heavy, carrying a cloying stench of rot and corrosive poisonous miasma. Beneath his feet was a treacherous path of mud—sometimes soft silt, sometimes deep pools hiding lethal intent. Fang Hao pushed his Shadowless Evasion Technique to its limit, his figure moving like a phantom as he traversed silently between withered trees, mud pits, and reed beds, trying his best to leave no trace and avoid disturbing the bizarre creatures lurking in the swamp.
