Time flowed on, and in the blink of an eye, three hours had passed.
'Damn it, this waiting is torture!'
Cheng Zongyang felt he truly couldn't calm his heart. He knew he was being affected by his own personal theory of relativity—the more you fixate on something, the slower time seems to pass.
His attempts to read during those three hours were interrupted several times by his own restlessness.
It was like the difference between carrying a beautiful woman and a fat woman across a fifty-meter-long log bridge—the experience of time would be completely different.
Although only three hours had passed, it was quickly approaching nightfall. There was still no news about the Mole Beast, and Cheng Zongyang didn't want to spend the night here, so he entered the Wilderness World again.
