The teleportation array came to a stop.

Before everyone could take their first step, Mimi, who had been dizzy from the jolting, had already jumped out first. Zanxing called out, “Mimi!” and hurried to follow. The moment she stepped out of the teleportation array, she froze in place.

In the vast expanse of heaven and earth, rolling sand dunes stretched endlessly, baked golden by the sun overhead. Desert winds carried sand particles that blew against them, the coarse grains scraping against their faces with a rough, stinging pain.

The people behind her followed out. Tian Fangfang spat several times, saying, “Why did I get a mouthful of sand?”

“This place is…” Mendong stared at the surroundings in a daze.

There was no Mo Sha lair, nor any monsters with sinister intentions. The desert stretched endlessly in all directions, with no sign of human habitation anywhere. Only a golden blazing sun scorched the earth, and dry winds blew from the distance.

The sky here was indeed very blue, blue like a rich, brilliant gemstone. Under the vast azure sky lay golden dunes. Perhaps because the contrast was so stark, it created a pure brightness that was both passionate and lonely.

“This isn’t a Mo Sha lair, is it?” Tian Fangfang scratched his head. “What is this place?”

Meng Ying said, “The teleportation array is no longer working. I’ll use a spirit crane to inform the Master of this matter first…” Her movements suddenly stopped.

Mu Cengxiao asked, “What’s wrong?”

“…I can’t open my Qiankun Bag.” Meng Ying looked at him.

Upon hearing this, Gu Baiying lowered his head to reach for the Qiankun Bag at his waist, then his expression immediately stiffened. Seeing him like this, everyone tried to untie their Qiankun Bags, but the openings seemed to be sealed by something and couldn’t be opened no matter what.

“This place is strange.” Gu Baiying withdrew his hand, his expression somewhat grave. “My Yuanli also seems to be greatly suppressed.”

It was fine when he didn’t mention it, but once he did, everyone tried circulating their Yuanli and indeed discovered it had weakened considerably.

“I told you those Mo Sha had no good intentions,” Mendong said angrily. “This place won’t let us use the talismans in our Qiankun Bags to contact our sects, and our cultivation methods have been reduced by so much. They must be brewing some grand conspiracy. Are they planning to capture us all in one net while we’re weakened?”

Mo Sha are cruel and violent. If they wanted to deal with us, they probably wouldn’t go to such trouble.” Mu Cengxiao pondered for a moment. “Since this is the case, either this matter has some deeper meaning, or those Mo Sha aren’t as strong as we imagined and need to borrow external forces to deal with us.”

Listening to their discussion, Zanxing only asked, “Regardless of who brought us here, the urgent matter is to first find a way to leave this place.” She looked into the distance. “I don’t see any human footprints. Does no one live here?”

“This place doesn’t look like anyone lives here either.” Tian Fangfang touched his chin. “Why don’t we continue walking forward? Right now, we can’t open our Qiankun Bags and can’t return through the teleportation array, so we can’t just stay here forever.” He spat out sand again. “The sandstorm is too strong; it hurts my face.”

Since there was no other way out, they could only grit their teeth and move forward. However, they couldn’t distinguish directions here—in all four directions lay desert, making people feel particularly insignificant within it. Zanxing and the others walked forward following the direction of the sun, but along the way, let alone human figures, they didn’t even see the shadow of a single blade of grass or tree.

The desert seemed to have never been touched by human feet, having quietly remained in the most inconspicuous corner of Duzhou’s maps, unchanged for thousands of years.

At first, Tian Fangfang still had the mood to joke around, and Zanxing listened to Mendong’s complaints along the way, but gradually everyone fell silent.

Too much time had passed. They had been walking for nearly two hours, perhaps three, yet the golden sunlight hadn’t diminished in the slightest, and the desert remained boundless. But people had already begun to feel fatigue and thirst.

Cultivators’ perception of hunger and fatigue was always less obvious than ordinary people. However, this place weakened their Yuanli, which in some ways made their bodies more similar to “ordinary people.”

Mendong, being young, felt it most clearly. His two pink hair ribbons now hung limply on his lotus bun, and his bangs were also dampened into strands. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and complained, “We’ve walked for so long, why is there still nothing but sand?”

“Are you all thirsty?” Tian Fangfang licked his dry lips and tried once again to open his Qiankun Bag. “I still have an unfinished watermelon in my Qiankun Bag, but unfortunately, I can’t open it.”

It was fine when he didn’t mention it, but once he did, Zanxing felt even thirstier, as if smoke was rising from her throat.

“Li’er Kingdom was better,” Tian Fangfang muttered as he walked. “When hungry, we could catch fish from the sea, when thirsty, we could pick fruits from trees. If I could drink a cup of iced syrup right now, I’d be willing to give up cultivating immortality.” He continued rambling, “Tell me, why does the world have places like deserts? Such a huge piece of land is completely wasted; nothing grows on it. It’s annoying to look at.”

Mimi in front refused to walk anymore, lying in the dunes and refusing to move, no matter what. Zanxing called several times but got no response—it was probably too tired to walk.

This fat cat had come out with her from Li’er Kingdom for trials, running and jumping all the way, and had indeed lost a full circle of weight compared to before. Zanxing had no choice but to bend down, pick it up, and carry it on her shoulder. She now very much regretted the foolish words she had sworn to Xuan Lingzi before going to Li’er Kingdom about definitely awakening this cat’s Yinlang Shi bloodline.

The cat was comfortable, but the person was even more tired. Zanxing’s Panhua Stick had already become her walking stick, and she walked with difficulty, one footprint at a time.

Tian Fangfang was still fantasizing: “If I had such a big piece of land, I’d find a way to make things grow on it, plant vegetables and fruit trees. When cultivators pass by and get tired from walking, they could just break off a watermelon to eat. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Listening to this, Zanxing sighed with emotion. Tian Fangfang’s tree-planting and forest-cultivation thinking was truly advanced and environmentally friendly.

However, continuing like this wasn’t a solution. Even if they walked for another day and night, the situation probably wouldn’t change. Adults could still hold on, but Mendong, being a child, obviously couldn’t bear it.

Just as she was thinking this, Mu Cengxiao in front suddenly stopped and pointed toward a distant direction: “Look!”

In the vast, boundless desert, where the blue sky met the horizon, large chunks of clouds like white cotton hung heavily over the dunes. In a place infinitely far from them, the shadow of a city vaguely emerged. There seemed to be people moving about within it, lively and bustling.

Mendong’s eyes lit up: “Signs of human habitation!”

Zanxing was startled and instinctively said, “It’s not a mirage, is it?”

Gu Baiying: “A mirage?”

“Right.” Zanxing replied, “Isn’t there often that kind of saying—travelers lost in the desert discover a river ahead, use their last strength to run to the riverbank, only to find there’s nothing there, just a castle in the air.”