“This has to be it. There is no way I can still hear that damn song at this heavens forsaken place.”3

Ye Qing was currently standing in the middle of a wasteland filled with thick miasma. Just smelling it was enough to induce hallucinations, and just making contact with it was enough to grow puss on one’s skin. That was why few flesh-and-blood creatures, much less humans frequented this place.0

Of course, this wasn’t a concern for Ye Qing. The miasma could not harm a hair on his person.0

The reason he came here was simple. It was to avoid the eerie, strange lullaby, of course.0

This was as far out as it could get. There was just no way he could still hear someone singing that damned lullaby here, right?0

As if he had jinxed himself, a breeze mixed with miasma blew into...0