Wu Shui Empire.
In the years after Xiao Ming left, the Demon Raiding Mountain changed into a place that felt like a bad dream.
It was no longer a place where young cultivators went to test their strength. Instead, it had become a forbidden zone that whispered of death.
Thick, dark purple clouds began to crawl out from the cracks in the jagged rocks.
No one knew where this smoke came from, but it moved like a living thing, snaking through the ancient trees and turning the atmosphere around them into a bruised, sickly violet.
People called this the Violet Mist of Disaster. In the beginning, the mist only appeared once in a long while, like a ghost that pops up and then vanishes.
But lately, the purple mist had swallowed nearly every inch of the mountain range. The air felt heavy and smelled like sour metal.
Even the dirt seemed to turn cold and unfriendly.
