```
Whispers akin to furtive conversations rose by He Ao's ear.
They were fragmented and delicate, like the hum of mosquitoes in the summer, or the chirping of cicadas beside a pond.
The blood-red that had covered He Ao's eyes gradually faded away, transforming into a twisted, blood-red sky.
And beneath this sky was a secluded pathway.
He Ao looked around him, at the twisted trees with bark that oozed blood, winding along the path.
This path had a noticeable curve, as if it were an uphill trail.
He Ao looked behind him, where a mist of blood obscured his vision, as well as the way down the mountain.
He lifted his head, looking forward.
The secluded path twisted into a grotesque, dense forest.
The rustling whispers in the forest grew more and more chaotic, like invisible parasites trying to burrow into He Ao's brain.
Even He Ao began to feel agitated and confused by these chaotic whispers.
He estimated he had entered some kind of twisted secret realm.
