Then there was a good chance he was an Original Spirit, just like that woman.
He remembered the woman's last words. She had wanted to go home.
'This "home"... could she have been referring to *that* place?'
Yang An's mind wandered. It was a shame the woman had died so suddenly. If only she had left behind a little more information.
Things here weren't static; one just had to be on a certain frequency of consciousness to perceive their more unusual aspects.
Time was limited, and Yang An didn't want to run around aimlessly like last time.
He was going to try the method Fu Ming had mentioned. If that didn't work, he'd figure something else out.
An incense stick's time later, Yang An was soaring through the air, searching for living beings in Lower Hu on his current frequency of consciousness. Suddenly, it was as if he'd slammed into an invisible wall, his flight brought to an abrupt halt.
