Daylight struggled painfully to pierce the thick canopy of ancient, overlapping branches, greedily casting only a few meager, pale-gray beams. The cold, damp mist in the forest did not disperse; instead, under the bleak light, it grew even thicker, carrying a stale stench of rotting leaves mixed with some kind of fishy, putrid odor that drilled into the nose in thin wisps.
Chen Mo trudged forward, stepping unevenly. Beneath his feet was no longer a soft layer of fallen leaves, but some slick, elastic deep-brown moss that emitted a squelching sound with every step. Each movement filled him with anxiety and dread, lest he sink into the unseen mire below. In his ribs, the cold numbness gnawed at him like a maggot in the bone; though temporarily suppressed, it served as a constant reminder that a time bomb was ticking inside his body. Even heavier on his mind was the Husky on his shoulder.
The dog was completely wilted.
Chapter 86