Chapter 175: Golden Fields
The path at the other end of the stream leads to a deeper forest. Vines intertwine like a net, and trees tower like walls, completely blocking out the sun. The sun seems to be swallowed by this forest, leaving only sporadic spots of light penetrating through the leaves, like broken beams of light.
The footsteps are particularly clear in the silence, and occasionally there is a slight sound of mutated insects crawling in the grass, which makes people nervous. But the insects do not mind them. They just chirp in their own way and wander in the forest.
If you don’t cause them trouble, they will simply ignore you. They are truly very different from the mutated insects in the cities.
Old Man Zhou muttered in a low voice, carefully picking those strange-colored and peculiar-shaped herbs from the roots of the trees.
No one dared to speak. The lessons of the end of the world are profound, and every word may awaken the dormant murderous intent.
But as they walked, the dense forest gradually became sparse.
Suddenly, the world opened up.
A golden field suddenly appeared before their eyes, as if it had been torn out of another world.
The sun shone down, shining like glass. The golden wheat waves gently rose and fell in the breeze, like a sleeping sea, and like a dream. It was not weeds, but wheat—a vast expanse of mature wheat fields.
Everyone stopped at the edge of the woods, their eyes full of shock and confusion.
"...Where is this place?" someone asked in a low voice.