The moonlight cast a chilling glow over the valley, shadows looming within the mist teeming with malodorous vapors. Under the corpse soldiers' iron armor, decayed arms appeared intermittently, the sound of armor clashing against the ground littered with severed limbs. The lingering might of Sword Qi still hovered within the ravines.
The corpse soldiers wielding flags, long banners, and great halberds surrounded a bronze chariot. The expansive procession encircled Wang Jian, appearing victorious as they scoured the battlefield, the swinging blades evoking memories of ancient eras when prisoners of war were slaughtered.
Ye Liangcai parted the fog and, suppressing his fear, rode towards the chariot. Beneath him, the decaying warhorse exhaled a forest of deathly mist, but it was the tower-like figure of the escort that terrified him even more, the pitch-black armor seemed less a defense than a seal trapping the Ghost Lord within.
"Xu Zhou Daoist, we cannot find any trace of them."
