Liu Sumeng raised his arm on instinct, protecting his face from the wind that howled.
It was dry, stifling hot. Gone were the fields of snow and a vast endless desert stretched ahead of them. Golden dunes rose and fell, clouds of sand whirled and stuck to skin upon contact.
Yuan Xuelan cursed, blinking hard as flurries of orange-gold obscured his vision. The air was so hot that their skin scorched with impossible heat. There was a blinding white sun above them, searing and bright. The air distorted, and it was hard to breathe.
Liu Sumeng formed a hand seal, calling forth a spell to help regulate the temperature around them. A silver light enveloped the two cultivators. Only to flicker and disperse.
Perhaps it was only obvious, but still he said, "This place is not normal."
