In the illusory Dark World, Gu Jianlin once again descended upon the ancient monolith altar.
Above the vast sky dome, dark clouds roiled like the surging tides of a deep, oppressive sea. Accompanied by the howling winds, an abyssal vortex storm brewed, while sand and stones swirled through the midair, with floating dust dancing unpredictably.
The barren wasteland stretched out endlessly, riddled with parched cracks, desolate and forlorn.
Countless ghosts wandered aimlessly across the desolate plains.
Some loomed as massive as giants, others were the size of average humans, and still, some were as insignificant as ants.
Only one ethereal, towering celestial ladder pierced the depths of the dark clouds, as if reaching straight to the heavens above.
Gu Jianlin stood atop the monolith altar, clad in a white sacrificial robe covered in pitch-black spells.
