As soon as Qiao Ruohe entered the miasma, he lost his sense of direction and his companions. He shouted loudly for Cang Yu and then for his cousin, but received no response. He yelled for Feng Feifei and then for his cousin on his mother's side, but there was still no sound from her.
Gusts of whistling wind brushed past his ears, stinging them as if pricked by needles. Before and behind him were bone-chilling white banks of fog, within which ice and fine drizzle fell. The tiny, rustling drops pattered against the hair bun on top of his head.
Every breath he exhaled from his mouth and nose instantly froze into ice. He gathered his fire-attribute spiritual power around his body to combat the extreme cold, which still pierced through his winter-padded cotton robes.
Chapter 177