Not knowing how much time had passed, Yang Xiao suddenly awoke from his sleep. The room was dim, the light overhead had gone out at some point, and everything around him was silent.
A sense of unease surged in his heart, and his head was still a muddled mess.
Yang Xiao moved slowly and cautiously, as if afraid of disturbing something hidden in the darkness. Just as he propped himself up with his hand, he seemed to touch something that was light, thin, and covered the bed, yet had a peculiar slippery feel.
Forcing himself to endure the throbbing pain in his head, Yang Xiao summoned the Ghost Lantern. As the green light spread, Yang Xiao clearly saw that a layer of gray traces, resembling the ashes of burnt paper, was evenly covering his bed.
No, it wasn't just the bed; the floor, the table, even the door—everywhere his eyes could see—was covered with a layer of gray ashes.
